Playing With Fire
by Sgt. Hakeswill
Summary: Spinster Abigail Prentice thought she could tame Obadiah Hakeswill. Instead, she ended up with more than she'd bargained for. Read to find out how she gets in over her head when she plays with fire.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: Yes, another Obadiah Hakeswill story! Bernard Cornwell and Pete Postlethwaite created such a fascinating, unforgettable character that inspired me to write about him once more. As usual, I don't own Obadiah or the Sharpe universe, but am just borrowing for entertainment purposes onl_y.

**Prologue**

Abigail Prentice sighed wearily as the wagon slowly clattered into the army camp near Badajoz. She glanced briefly at her cousin and his wife, who both looked equally weary and travel-worn. Sighing again as the wagon jolted hard going over a rut, she silently fretted about how her trip to Spain had not turned out to be the grand adventure she had hoped for.

In her late thirties, Abigail had long yearned to travel, wanting to escape the tedium of her spinster's life in a small English village, even if just for a short time. But, until recently, she'd never had the opportunity to do so, as no one had been willing to travel with her, and it was out of the question for an unescorted lady to go alone. Her widowed mother simply would not have tolerated it

Her opportunity finally came several weeks before, when her married cousin and his wife, were sent by their church on a mission trip to Spain, mostly to minister to British troops there. They had offered to take Abigail along on the condition she help with the work, and her mother had reluctantly agreed, unable to object to such chaperones. And despite caring little for the idea of evangelization, Abigail had jumped at the chance, knowing it was the only one she would ever get. The unattractive, outspoken woman had missed out on getting a husband, so she had no intention of allowing this trip to slip through her fingers as well.

Since the group had arrived in Spain the month before, they'd spent most of their time traveling from one army camp to the next. One time, however, they had stopped at a small Spanish town and her cousin, John White, had attempted to convert some the Papists there. The three of them had ended up being banished from the town, so they'd stuck to the army camps since that incident. John was just as happy visiting such camps, as there were plenty of backsliders and Irish Catholic soldiers for him to preach to.

This had irritated Abigail immensely. What did it matter which denomination a Christian adhered to? They were all praying to the same God, in any instance, so let the Papists finger their rosaries and burn their incense. It didn't make one iota of difference to the middle aged woman. She'd come to Spain to see the Spanish towns and the Spanish people. If she'd wanted to see more Englishmen, she could have remained at home and done that with much less bother.

Sighing again as the wagon rumbled to a halt in front of a blond, green jacketed officer and several similarly clad men, Abigail reminded herself that even this army camp was preferable to remaining at home in her boring little village where nothing of interest ever happened.

The blond officer walked over to the wagon to greet them, with his eyes sliding over Abigail to linger on her cousin's young wife, Marianne, with her blond curls, before finally turning his attention to John. Abigail was used to being practically invisible to men, so the behavior of this man, while not endearing him to her, did not surprise her. Since being in Spain, the giggling, juvenile Marianne had garnered all the male attention from those they met.

"Can I help you?" Richard Sharpe asked, his tone of voice somewhere between curiosity and exasperation, as he wondered what these three civilians were doing in camp in the middle of the siege of Badajoz.

"Yes, you may," John White said unctuously. He was a weedy, prematurely grey man, one year Abigail's senior. "I am Reverend John White. Indicating the two women, he continued "This is my wife, Marianne, and my cousin, Miss Abigail Prentice."

"Ladies," Sharpe briefly acknowledged the women, then waited for the man to continue.

"We're here to minister to the men, to provide spiritual guidance," White explained, puffing up with pride..

Barely repressing the urge to snort in derision, Sharpe replied, "We're in the middle of conducting a siege here." He indicated Badajoz in the distance with a sweep of the hand. "The men don't have time for that sort of thing right now. You and the ladies would just be in the way. And we already have a regimental chaplain."

"I can't think of a better time, considering that many of these men will soon meet their maker," White replied, sniffing. "What better time for them to get right with God?" Seeing that Sharpe still was unimpressed, he quickly added, "We are expected. We sent word ahead and I believe a Colonel Windham is anticipating our arrival. If you could be so kind as to direct us to him?"

Sharpe gestured to young Perkins to show White the way to Windham's tent, now through with the man. "If you'll go with Rifleman Perkins, he'll take you to the Colonel."

Sergeant Harper, who'd been standing by Sharpe, spoke up. "I'll be helping the ladies to find them some quarters, sir, so I will."

"Good idea, Pat," Sharpe said, his eyes still on Marianne White. "Believe I'll walk with you." Ignoring Abigail, he moved to help the petite Marianne from the wagon.

Harper rolled his eyes indulgently at Sharpe's obvious interest in the comely Mrs White, as he moved to help the older and far less attractive Abigail Prentice to get down.

"Thank you, Sergeant," Abigail said primly, as she accepted Harper's hand to alight from the wagon. "I appreciate your assistance."

"It's my pleasure, so it is," Harper replied gently. Turning to a large, red jacketed private, he called out, "Clayton! Come and get the ladies' bags and follow us."

Clayton obeyed the sergeant's orders good-naturedly, acknowledging each woman with a tip of his shako before attending to the bags.

Abigail trailed slightly behind the three men as Sharpe took Marianne's arm to lead her to the guest tents, which were on the far side of the camp, away from Badajoz. Her observant eyes darted around as they walked, watching camp residents going about their normal activities. As was to be expected, most of the camp denizens were men, but there was a smattering of lower class women among them, which surprised her.

"Who are those women?" she asked Harper, pointing.

"Mostly soldiers' wives brought out from England, they are, but there are a few Spanish and Portuguese women what some of the men married, plus a few random local women just following the army, doing such jobs as cooking and laundry. He did not mention the ones who attached themselves to the group in order to make their livings on their backs, as that wasn't a fit topic to speak of to a lady.

"Oh, what a grand adventure it must be for the wives who got to come from England with their husbands!" Abigail enthused.

"No, it's a lot of hard work for them, so it is," Harper replied, repressing the urge to roll his eyes at the naive woman. "But they came because they want to take care of their men. Some of them have lost three or four husbands since they came here." Seeing the shocked look on her face, he added, "A wife that loses her husband in battle has to get married again within a month or she'll be made to leave the army camp, you see. So they marry again as quick as possible so they won't be left behind when we go back to England.."

"Oh, my!" Abigail lapsed into silence then, not quite knowing how to respond to that. She returned to her observations of camp activity, glad that Sergeant Harper did not attempt to revive the conversation.

A moment later, a loud, raspy voice called out, "Clayton! Quit wastin' time with them women! I got some work I needs you to do, you lazy bastard!"

"Mind your own business, Obadiah," Harper snapped impatiently. "I've got Clayton doing something for me right now. I'll send him your way when I'm done with him and not a moment before!"

Abigail swiveled her head in the direction of that intrusive voice to find a rawboned red-coated sergeant a few years her senior. The man had an oddly lumpy face with prominent cheekbones, a shaved head with currently fashionable side whiskers, and a malevolent aura radiating out from his blue eyes. But, rather than being repelled by him, Abigail was fascinated. When the man's gaze met hers and momentarily held it, she shivered involuntarily as he briefly raised one eyebrow to her.

She instinctively knew that this sergeant was unlike any man she had ever met before and made a mental note to seek him out later to see what made him tick. Perhaps visiting this army camp wouldn't be quite so boring, after all.


	2. First Night in Camp

Early that evening, Abigail brushed her hair inside the spartan guest tent she'd been assigned to after first arriving in camp. She and her cousins had been the dinner guests of Colonel Windham, who had unsurprisingly turned out to be a pompous windbag as well as a pretentious snob, as Abigail usually found most men of his class to be.

While growing up as a vicar's daughter, Abigail had come in contact with people from every station in life. As part of the church work expected of her, she'd been acquainted with her so-called social "betters", as well as the poor, whom society considered to be beneath her. As far as she was concerned, no one was better than her simply by accident of birth and she very much resented having to pretend it was so in order to get along in society.

In the short time she'd been at this army camp, she'd seen that the social divisions were clearly drawn here as well, though perhaps not quite so rigidly as back in England. Abigail had noticed that Mr Sharpe did not speak as a gentleman, nor act like one, yet he was an officer.

At dinner, she'd learned that her suspicions about him had been accurate. John had asked why Mr Sharpe had not been invited to dinner and had been told that "he really wasn't our type at all" by Colonel Windham. As she continued to brush her hair, Abigail idly wondered what extraordinary feat Sharpe had done to warrant being raised from the ranks.

A moment later, there was a knock on the tent pole, which startled Abigail from her woolgathering. She moved to push the flap open to find John there, almost looking agitated.

Not waiting for her to speak, he urged, "Come on, now, Abigail! Cease dithering around in your tent at once! Put your bonnet on and accompany me and Marianne to go speak with the men around the camp fires. After all, it's what we came here for!"

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Abigail merely replied, "Yes, John, of course. Give me a moment to properly put my hair back up before I join you."

Ten minutes later, she accompanied her cousins to the center of camp, where a large group of men and camp followers were gathered around multiple camp fires in a long row between two groups of tents. She immediately noticed Mr Sharpe and Sergeant Harper, surrounded by several green coated men in a prominent spot, along with many other soldiers and camp women .

John marched right over to Sharpe, having deduced the man was an atheist, which represented an irresistible challenge to him. He thought it a good a place to start as any.

One of the green jacketed men was playing a tin whistle, with several in the group raucously singing a bawdy ditty along with the music. At the same time, some were passing a bottle around.

Abigail was enchanted by the easy camaraderie within the group, not even blushing at the bawdy lyrics. As she watched the group, she realized that the fact that Sharpe was out here socialising comfortably with the enlisted man was yet further proof that he was no gentleman. It did not matter to her, one way or the other, but it was a most fascinating departure from the usual, expected thing.

She glanced over at John, who was predictably fuming, no doubt offended by the song and the fact that it was being sung in mixed company. He stood with a rigid posture that matched his outlook on life. Marianne was oblivious to the song, as she was to most things; her eyes were focused on Sharpe, no doubt admiring his appearance.

As the group continued to sing, Abigail idly let her eyes wander around the camp, looking to see if she could spot the bald sergeant she'd seen earlier. After a few moments of scanning the area, she frowned when she did not see the man. She hoped he would turn up later, as she didn't care to spend the entire evening doing John's bidding.

No sooner than the song finished than John hustled up to Sharpe. "Lieutenant Sharpe, have you considered where your soul will go if you happen to be killed in the upcoming battle?"

Sharpe rolled his eyes before answering. "First of all, I don't waste my time worrying about things that might not ever happen," he began. Narrowing his eyes, he added, "And let's get something clear before you go any further. You're wasting your breath trying to convert me. A better man than you tried to do it more than ten years ago in India, and you're surely not going to succeed where he failed, 'cos he was a man I respected as a good soldier, even if I had no use for all his God talk."

John was flummoxed, not knowing quite how to respond to Sharpe's blunt comments.

Sharpe wasn't finished with him, however. "You're here because the Colonel allowed it. If it had been up to me, I'd have sent you on your way. You can talk to the men, just so long as they want to listen to you. If they don't, you leave them be. They work hard during the day and this is their time to relax."

Knowing there was nothing for it, John pressed his lips together tightly, then turned on his heel and left in search of more likely prospects, gesturing for the women to do the same. Marianne trailed hesitantly behind her husband, waiting for his instructions.

Abigail lingered near Sharpe and his men, not really wanting to bother the soldiers, who looked as if they were having a good time. More songs were sung, interspersed with lively conversation, which she found infinitely more interesting than the stilted insincere conversations from when she went calling with her mother back home.

She strolled for a bit among the soldiers, to make it look as if she was talking with the men about spiritual matters as John expected her to do but, in reality, she kept looking to see if the bald headed sergeant would appear.

Finally, after a long interval, she spotted the sergeant on the periphery of the group, alone near a large grouping of tents. Though the man was in the shadows and his features could not clearly be seen, Abigail got the distinct impression that he was lonely, even though she had no rational basis for that thought. She had instinctively recognised the loneliness in him that matched her own.

"Who is that sergeant standing in the shadows there?" Abigail asked Sharpe, pointing. "I believe Sergeant Harper called him Obadiah earlier this afternoon?"

"That's Obadiah Hakeswill," Sharpe answered, his tone of voice clearly indicating his hatred of the man. "He's a bad one, not worth your time."

"Nonsense!" Abigail retorted, taken a bit aback by Sharpe's venom. "God loves everyone."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," Sergeant Harper put in, overhearing the conversation. "But if I were you, I'd take seriously what Mr Sharpe is telling you, so I would. He's known Obadiah for a long time and knows what he's talking about."

"With all due respect, Sergeant, it is precisely the most disagreeable among us who need God's love the most," she insisted stoutly. "He is exactly the sort of person I should be talking with."

Exhaling loudly in exasperation, Sharpe replied, "I didn't want to have to be so blunt with you, but the truth is that Sergeant Hakeswill isn't fit company for a lady. If you value your virtue and your reputation, you'll avoid being alone with him."

"Surely, you exaggerate," she said, appalled. "I'm in an army camp surrounded by hundreds of people."

"You're an adult and I can't tell you what to do," Sharpe told her, his patience near the breaking point. "If you want to play with fire, go ahead. But don't say I didn't warn you when you get burned."

"I'll be perfectly all right," Abigail insisted, as she turned to walk off in the direction of where Obadiah Hakeswill still stood.


	3. An Impulsive Decision

Obadiah Hakeswill stood in the shadows near a tree in front of some tents observing the men and camp women around several fires. He'd spent much of the evening prowling through the camp, looking for things to steal and had just returned from the hiding spot down the road where he'd buried his stash of loot.

The haul tonight had been modest: some coins, a watch, and a silver ring. That didn't bother him none; every little bit helped and, over time, he'd managed to build up a tidy nest egg. Obadiah always sold the personal objects as quickly as he could. It was much safer that way, as no one could claim that a guinea had belonged to anyone in particular like personal possessions could.

Now, he lingered around the periphery of the group so that when the stolen items were missed, someone would remember him being here, on the odd chance anyone thought to suspect him, as Richard Sharpe was quite likely to do.

After a few minutes of watching the crowd, he suddenly noticed a plain faced woman, nearly his own age, striding purposefully in his direction. Mildly curious, he wondered where she was going in such a hurry. To his surprise, she stopped right in front of him, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

"Sergeant Obadiah Hakeswill?" Abigail asked breathlessly, as he looked at her with one raised eyebrow, as he'd done earlier when she'd first seen him.

Hakeswill didn't speak for a long moment, wondering what she wanted with him as his mind placed where he'd seen her before. Finally, he said, "I done seen you earlier, you came into camp with that friggin' fop and his blondie whore."

"My, but you're certainly direct," Abigail observed, not able to stifle the laughter that escaped her mouth. "How refreshing. Insincerity frankly bores me. I prefer knowing right up front where I stand with a person."

"Do you now?" he said, twitching, as he gave her a closer look. "Ain't that interesting."

After a beat, she added, "They are my cousin John, and his dimwitted wife, Marianne. Bores, both of them."

Chuckling, he continued, "Had to laugh 'cos ol' Sharpie was all over her like a cat on cream. Never mind that he's got him a wife penned up there in Badajoz, what can slice a man's throat as soon as look at him. He's just a man like any other, despite him thinking he can make a gentleman out of himself."

"I knew he wasn't a gentleman, the moment I met him," she confided.

"'Course he ain't!" Obadiah said, chortling with glee. "He's from the gutter, same as me. Only difference being is that I knows what I am and don't try puttin' on no airs and graces."

"I don't particularly care for gentlemen, myself," she freely admitted to him. "Most of them are insufferably pompous and arrogant."

Suddenly regarding her with a stern gaze, he twitched, then demanded, "So, what you wanting with me, eh?"

"Well, you see, I came to Spain for an adventure," she explained. "I'd never been out of England before and the only way my family would allow me to go is if I had someone to escort me. I've never been married, so the opportunity didn't come up until recently. My cousin and his wife are missionaries and they agreed to let me travel with them, as long as I helped them with their work. We've been visiting army camps all over Spain and Portugal."

"But why did you pick me, missy?" Hakeswill persisted, twitching again. "I done seen you walk by plenty o' buggers what you could have talked to. You picked me on purpose, you did."

"You're right, I did," she told him. She realized this man was quite shrewd and he would see through any attempts at prevarication. "I remembered you calling out to Sergeant Harper earlier this afternoon. You caught my attention because I don't think I've ever met a man like you before."

"Lady like you, livin' a soft life; I'm guessing not," he observed sourly.

Giving him a shy grin, she admitted, "And Mr Sharpe warned me not to be alone with you. I took it as a challenge."

Obadiah cackled throatily, then said, "Well, why don't we take a walk, then? We ain't exactly alone here. If you wants to make Sharpie mad, you needs to do it right, see?"

He didn't quite know what to make of this naive woman who didn't have the sense to keep her place, but he was more than willing to take advantage of her naivete. It wasn't every day that a woman practically offered herself to him like this.

"A-all right," she consented nervously, as some of her bravado seeped away. There was a whiff of danger about this man that intrigued her, but she had never been quite so forward with a member of the male sex before.

As they retreated into the shadows to walk among the rows of tents, Hakeswill told Abigail, "Don't bother tryin' to preach to me, missy, 'cos that would be a waste of breath."

"And why is that, Sergeant?" she asked mildly, not at all surprised by his words.

"I already knows that God loves me and that he looks after me," he told her earnestly. "I've done cheated death too many times not to know that."

Twitching briefly, he continued, "Don't need no more 'n that. I don't need to be cumbered with no long list of rules that don't help me none to survive in this world. Ain't no church people ever done nothing for me when I needed it, not when my mother was dying when I was a lad or any other time. I ain't got no use for the pious at all. Hypocrites, the lot of 'em."

"I'm so sorry about your mother," she said quietly. "I'm sure you loved her very much."

"'Preciate it, missy," he replied, twitching briefly. Clearing his throat, he went on, "I didn't need no bleedin' Bible when I was a lad and had an empty belly, and was told by the vicar that me and my mother were poor 'cos we were sinners."

"What a terrible thing to say!" she exclaimed.

Warming to the subject, he pulled the collar of his jacket to the side to show her the angry purplish scar ringing his neck. "See this scar here? I done got it when I was twelve years old when the vicar had me hanged. So, you can see why I wants nothing to do with the pious."

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "Why? And how did you survive it?"

"I done told you that God looks after me," he said irritably. "And he did that day - there was a downpour what scattered the crowd before I was properly hanged and my uncle cut me down and ran me off 'fore anyone could hang me back up there again, see?"

Abigail did not comment, but thought to herself that this no doubt explained his unfortunate twitch.

Twitching again, he continued, "Vicar claimed I violated his daughter, he did. I didn't rape that girl like he done told the constable. At that age, all I really wanted was to see her goodies 'cos I was curious. Ain't no crime in wantin' that, is there, eh?"

Abigail gulped nervously; it seemed as if there might be some truth to Lieutenant Sharpe's warning, after all. Nevertheless, she still found herself inexplicably drawn to this man as he was anything but boring. But she still had to ask the question that had popped into her mind, as her insatiable curiosity just had to know.

Gulping again, she asked quietly, "Did you ever take advantage of a woman against her will, Sergeant?" By this time, they'd stopped in front of a tent.

Raising his eyebrow, he stared at her quizzically, wondering why a proper female like her would ask such a blunt question. She obviously had no idea what she was getting herself into.

"Man needs to get him a good scratching regular like, 'cos it makes him a better soldier, so I gets what I need any way I can," he finally replied, shrugging. "Ain't many willing to lift their skirts for me - leastways, not for free - so when I ain't got no money to pay 'em proper, I have to find other ways of gettin' what I need, see?"

When she did not comment, he continued, "What are you askin' me that for, missy, eh? You offering yourself to me, are you?"

"I...uh...well," Abigail stammered, at a loss for words. No one had ever spoken to her in such a manner before.

"Lift your skirts for me, missy," he said quietly, but firmly. "It's about time you had you some. Don't be afraid, Obadiah will do you right."

Abigail fought the urge to turn and run away, not at all sure he wouldn't chase her. What he was asking of her went against everything she'd ever been taught; she would be ruined if she were to give in to him.

On the other hand, she was nearly forty and being chaste all these years had done nothing to get her a husband so far. It wasn't as if being ruined would make her chances any worse at this point in her life. She'd come to Spain to have an adventure and this would be the only chance she would ever get to know what it was like to lie with a man. Despite her misgivings, Abigail was certain she didn't want to go to her grave as a virgin. So, it was now or never.

Meanwhile, Obadiah waited as patiently as he was capable of, able to clearly see from her facial expressions the thought processes going through her head. He was fairly certain she would give in, but he intended to have her either way.

Finally, having come to a decision, she took a deep breath and said, "Yes. Yes I will. But we'd better do it quickly before I lose my courage."

Taking her hand, he reached with his other hand to open the flap of the tent behind him. "You won't be sorry, missy. Come on in; this here's my tent." Grinning tightly as she accepted his hand, he was happy to have one come to him willingly for a change.

And, so, with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, Abigail allowed him to lead her into his tent, where nature soon took its predictable course.


	4. The Day After

After quite some time alone with Obadiah Hakeswill in his tent, Abigail stumbled back to her own in a daze. She'd not anticipated what had just happened; she'd never expected to lose her innocence just like that.

Innocence? On second thought, perhaps that was something she_ should _have lost long ago. The very idea of a woman nearly forty years old still being innocent was laughably ludicrous. Sitting down on her cot, she realized the unmannerly sergeant had done her a very great favour. She might never marry, but at least now she had some experience of the marital act. Of course, she could never tell anyone of her experiences, but it was enough just for her to know.

Nevertheless, she was grateful that no one of any consequence saw her leave Sergeant Hakeswill's tent nor make her way back to her own, as disheveled as she knew she must look.

It wouldn't do for it to get back to John, who would most certainly tell everyone in England once they returned home. That, and he'd likely pressure Colonel Windham to order the sergeant to marry her. Though Abigail wanted to get married some day, she didn't want it so badly that she would consent to the groom being forced into it. That defeated the entire point, as far as she was concerned.

Fortunately, when John was evangelising, he immersed himself totally in the task and completely lost track of time. So, it was unlikely he would have either noticed her absence, nor would question her about it. If he asked her what she had been doing, she could truthfully say that she'd been talking about God with one of the soldiers. There was no need for her to mention what they did after the conversation had ended.

Abigail quickly stripped off to her shift, then put her dressing gown over it because it was a rather cool night. She went immediately to bed, but sleep eluded her for quite some time, as the throbbing discomfort between her legs was an ever-present reminder of what she'd done that night. Eventually, though, she fell into a fitful slumber out of sheer exhaustion.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

After Abigail Prentice had left his tent, Obadiah rolled over and immediately went to sleep. He always slept better after a good scratching and he'd enjoyed giving the naive woman her long overdue introduction to sex.

She was nowhere near as comely as Sally Clayton, the private's wife he'd had his eye on since they'd set up camp here. But she was higher class and, more important, she'd come willingly to him. That didn't happen very often, so Obadiah was determined to take advantage of the situation and make as much use of her while she remained in camp. After all, a bird in the hand was better than two in the bush, as his dear mother used to always say. There would be plenty of time later to have Sally Clayton, as she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Abigail overslept the next morning, which wasn't surprising, considering the late hour at which she'd retired and all that she had on her mind. She took her time getting dressed, making sure to change to a fresh shift because the one she wore to bed still reeked of sex and the sergeant's personal scent.

Her cousin accosted her almost immediately after she emerged from her tent. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "The sun has been up for hours. The Lord frowns upon slothful behaviour, you know. There is much work to do here before we move on."

Barely repressing the urge to roll her eyes at him, she merely responded, "I'm sorry, John. I had difficulty in falling asleep last night. The cot was most disagreeably uncomfortable, you know."

"That's no excuse," he said unctuously. "You've missed a morning's worth of work. Go have something to eat, then circulate through the camp and find someone to witness to. This camp is full of sinners and reprobates who need saving. I think it would be an excellent idea if you went and talked to some of the camp women."

"That is exactly what I had in mind," she said, heaving an exasperated sigh. Abigail was rather tired of him treating her as if she were a half-wit child.

"See that you stick to that plan," he told her. "I don't have the time to be coddling you. I have plenty of work of my own to do." He walked off before she could reply, which suited her fine.

Abigail sighed again, then turned away to head to the mess tent. She glanced around for Obadiah as she walked, but did not see him. No matter, there was plenty of time to seek him out later. First things first. Her stomach grumbled as if to remind her of that fact.

A short time later, she strolled down to where she'd been told that most of the camp wives congregated during the day to visit with one another and do their daily chores. She found a group of several women sitting around a camp fire in an open area beyond the last group of tents. A smattering of children played near them, with a line of trees beyond that. Another group of women were on the other side of the trees doing laundry by a small creek.

"May I join you for a few minutes?" Abigail asked as the women looked up at her approach. "I'm visiting the camp with my cousins and I thought it would be nice to have a bit of female companionship."

Indicating an empty stool, a large heavyset woman said, "Suit yourself." After a beat, she added, "Ain't you with that preacher who was nattering at the men last night round the fire?"

"Yes, I am," she admitted ruefully. "But don't worry. I'm not going to preach to you."

"That's good to hear," a slim blond woman named Sally remarked. "That preacher done upset my man last night, making him upset 'cos we ain't church goers." Pausing a moment to open her bodice so that she could feed her baby, she added, "But we're good people and we does the best we can to bring up our little 'uns right."

"I'm sure you do," Abigail said, smiling at her. "My cousin John can be quite overbearing. I'm sorry he upset your husband."

"Ain't your fault," Sally said, smiling back. "You ain't got no control over what he does."

"Oh, look who's back," the other woman, Lil, interjected, her voice dripping with scorn as she pointed off into the distance near the donkey pen.

Abigail looked to where the other woman pointed and, to her surprise, saw Obadiah watching them intently. "Oh, my!" was all she could think of to say.

"He's been watching me for awhile," Sally explained. "Especially when I open my bodice to feed my baby. He even told my husband straight out that he was going to lay his hands on my tits one day."

"Disgusting," Lil said. Turning to Abigail, she elaborated, "He threatens the men what has their wives with 'em, telling 'em he'll have 'em flogged unless their wives come give themselves to him. Sad thing is, he gets away with it. 'cos the men can't prove they didn't do whatever it was Hakeswill says they deserves to be flogged for."

"I wonder why he just doesn't get married and have a wife of his own?" Abigail mused.

"Who'd have 'im?" Lil exclaimed hotly as Sally vigorously nodded in agreement. "I don't care if he is a sergeant what makes more money; it wouldn't be worth it to be married to the likes of that ol' bony bastard."

Abigail excused herself a few moments later, not having let on to them about her connection to the sergeant. Though she understood their sentiments, she didn't see Obadiah Hakeswill quite as they did. She recognized the loneliness in him that was so much like her own, which was something she knew these women would not be able to understand.

Some time later, as the sun was low in the sky, Sergeant Hakeswill fell into step with Abigail, coming out from behind a row of tents not long after she'd left the mess tent after the evening meal.

"Thought we could spend some time together, missy," he told her. "Ain't got no more work what has to be done today."

"All right," she agreed. "That would be nice."

"I saw you sittin' with them camp women earlier," he said, twitching. "Giving you an earful about me, were they? I saw that big one pointing at me."

"Oh, yes," Abigail chuckled. "You could say that." Looking squarely at him, she asked, "And was what they told me true?"

"Depends on what they said," he replied, shrugging. Changing the subject, he asked, "I been wondering. Why ain't you never been married, eh? Seems to me you should have done married long ago and had you some little 'uns."

Sighing loudly, she took a long while to respond. "Well, you see, my dowry was never large enough to cause a prospective suitor to overlook my less than comely appearance," she told him frankly. "Nor have I ever been sufficiently biddable for them to overlook the modest dowry and a face they found less than fair."

Hakeswill did not respond for quite some time. "I understands that," he eventually said.

"I've been wondering the same thing about you, Sergeant," she pointed out. "Why haven't you married? Maybe you'd leave the camp women alone if you had your own wife."

"Obadiah, missy," he said. "Seems only right you call me that 'cos we've done been together."

Sighing, he twitched briefly, then added "The good Lord didn't bless me with no handsome face, neither. And I never had me money enough, so's the women wouldn't care none about that. But I had me a woman once what wanted me years ago in India when I was young."

Turning away from Abigail, not wanting her to see the pain on his face, he brushed a tear from his eye, then said, "Died givin' birth to our boy, she did. She weren't nothin' but a heathen _bibbi - _that's what we called the Indian women what followed our army - but I loved her just the same and ain't a day gone by since that I don't miss her.

"What happened to your son?" she asked, feeling more compassion for this man, that mostly overrode her distaste at his earlier offhand confession that confirmed Sharpe's warnings. And she was a bit surprised to realize that she had no fear of him. Indeed, she wouldn't have gone off with him alone and lain with him if she had. God would protect her; he always did.

"I done gave him my name and put him in an orphanage there in India what took care of all the half-breed babies," he explained. "Couldn't take him with me - how's a soldier on the march with an army going to take care of a little baby without no woman to feed him and see to his needs, eh? Army wouldn't allow it, anyway, 'cos I didn't have no woman. I did the best I could for him 'fore we shipped out to come back to England".

"Do you ever see him? she asked gently.

"Saw him a couple times when we came back to India when he was a little 'un, but I ain't seen him in years. He'd be close to bein' a grown man now. Boy will probably end up joining the army, and with him having a proper English name,he shouldn't have no trouble enlisting"

"Maybe you'll see him again one day,"

"Maybe," he agreed. "but I ain't countin' on it."

The two walked in silence for a few moments, then Obadiah said, "Why don't we go on back to my tent for awhile. I needs to have you again."

"I've got an even better idea...Obadiah," she told him with a bold smile. "Why don't you come back to my tent so you can stay all night with me."

"I likes the way you think," he said, twitching again. "Don't mind if I do."


	5. Dalliance and Discovery

Over the next several days, Abigail kept to pretty much the same routine. She spent her days wandering in the camp, going through the motions of what John expected of her. Often, she spotted Obadiah going about his daily work, but she did not approach him during these times, nor did he acknowledge that he knew her, though she knew he was aware of her presence.

She also tried to keep clear of John as much as she could, so that he'd not realize that she was not attending the her duties in an assiduous of a manner as he would have liked. Mostly, she just chatted with people, with no attempts to convert them, and watched men digging trenches as the siege of Badajoz continued..She usually only saw John and Marianne at meal times.

The nights belonged to Obadiah. He usually sought her out at sundown, after his day's work had been done. Though they sometimes took walks, most of their time together was spent with him giving her thorough lessons in the carnal arts, which she surprisingly found she had a great appetite for.

In between the bouts of physical activity, Obadiah would sometimes smoke his pipe in bed as they talked and got to know one another better. Despite the disparity in their backgrounds, Abigail found she felt comfortable with the irascible sergeant; he made her laugh. He was such a refreshing change from all the proper, stuffy gentleman she'd previously been acquainted with. The more she got to know him, the less she wanted to return to England. Here, finally, was the adventure she'd been seeking all along.

But the routine was interrupted one day when John met her coming out of her tent.

"I want you to stay near your tent for most of the day today," he told her.

"Whatever for?" she asked, puzzled.

"There's going to be a flogging today and it won't be a fit sight for ladies," he explained. "It seems as if one of the sergeants was caught stealing from Colonel Windham. He was broken in rank and will be flogged as punishment."

"Oh, dear," Abigail said, afraid that it was Obadiah. She knew him well enough by now to know that he wasn't averse to doing some pilfering to supplement his paltry wages. "Do you know which sergeant?"

"It's Sergeant Harper, which surprises me," John said, shaking his head. "He seemed like such an upstanding man, even if he is a Papist."

"That doesn't make sense to me, either," she replied. "He would be the last person I would suspect as a thief. What did he steal, do you know?"

"He took the portrait of Colonel Windham's wife," her cousin explained. "For the silver frame, you see. He threw the portrait away and won't tell where. Claims he didn't take it, even though the frame was found in his haversack. Several other officers also had items stolen, but those weren't found."

"Oh, my," she said. "Such a shame. Maybe there is more to the story than we know. I rather like Sergeant Harper. He's more of a gentleman than the ones born to it."

"I will come back to tell you and Marianne when it's safe to venture forth," he said. "Until then, I want you to stay here."

"All right," she readily agreed. Turning back into her tent, she decided to take a nap, which was better than spending time with the vapid Marianne.

Later that evening at twilight, Obadiah turned up at his usual time. As they walked along the creek where the women did laundry by day, Abigail said, "I heard there was a flogging today."

"That's right, missy," Obadiah confirmed, cackling contentedly. "It was that miserable miscreant Irishman, Harper, it was."

"My cousin John told me it was for stealing," she added, thinking it better not to mention that she rather liked the Irish sergeant.

"He didn't get flogged for stealing," he retorted, twitching briefly. "It was for bein' stupid enough to get caught. Nearly everyone in the ranks steals at one time or another. Have to 'cos they don't hardly pay us nothing."

"When he first told me about it, he just said it was a sergeant. For a moment, I was afraid it was you."

"I ain't stupid enough to get caught," he told her, rolling his eyes. "Been in the army since I was a lad of twelve and I knows how to get around them officers. Most of 'em ain't that hard to fool." After a moment, he added, "Don't worry none about me. I can take care of myself."

He didn't bother to tell her he'd instigated the entire incident and had set the rival sergeant up. Just because Abigail had given herself to him willingly and seemed to be infatuated with him for some unknown reason was no reason to trust her. She might like what he was giving her, but that was no guarantee that she'd not tell on him to save Harper's skin. He'd not lasted in the army for thirty years by trusting people, after all.

Grabbing Abigail's hand, he said, "Come on, missy. Let's go get us a good scratching. Time's a-wasting."

"Yes, of course," she said, relaxing her hand in his larger one. She knew they'd talk more later.

As the days went by and the siege progressed, the men became busier with the preparations to storm Badajoz. Still, Abigail and her cousins remained at Colonel Windham's insistence, because he deemed it not safe to travel, as it was possible that a French detachment might capture them and he didn't have a detachment of his own to spare to ensure their safe passage out. Nevertheless, John still found people to preach to, which was a relief to Abigail. Though she was certain that some of the camp people had to have noticed her association with Sergeant Hakeswill, she was certain that her oblivious cousin had not. He was single-minded when it came to his proselytising.

Finally the day came when the wall breach was complete and the order came from Wellington that the attack would begin late that night.

Abigail was able to meet Obadiah at the usual time, but instead of a walk, they went directly to his tent, given his lack of time to spend with her that particular night.

"One last go, eh, missy?" he said, twitching, as he fastened the tent flap behind them. "Ain't got time to do more 'n a quick one 'cos I got to get that lot o' stupid buggers ready to storm the breach later tonight."

:Later, as they were getting dressed, Abigail told him, "I'll be praying until you return safe and sound. I'd be heartbroken if something happened to you."

"Ain't that nice," he said, fascinated by the novelty of someone worrying about his safety. "But don't worry none about me. I've cheated death so many times since I was twelve that I don't think I can die. I'll be back, just you wait and see."

"I'll pray just the same," she said stoutly. "It will keep me occupied and make me feel better to do it."

After Obadiah had left to take charge of his men, Abigail reluctantly returned to the guest tent area, where John and Marianne sat around a campfire with a few of the camp women.

"There you are!" he said. "I've been wondering where you went."

"You know I take a long walk every evening after dinner," she lied smoothly. "I didn't see any reason for tonight to be any different."

"Is that so?" he said, giving her a sharp look. "These ladies are telling me that you've been seen several times keeping company with a particular sergeant, a Sergeant...Hakeswill, I believe?"

"What of it?" she demanded, dismayed to find that he wasn't quite so oblivious, after all.

"I've also been told by Lieutenant Sharpe that he is not an honourable man; that he has compromised the virtue of several of the camp women," John continued. "It doesn't look right for you or our ministry for you to be seen in the company of such a debased individual."

"You've always told me that it's the lowest creatures who need God the most," she reminded him, again lying through her teeth. "I've just been taking extra time with him to help him to see the light."

"You also need to think about your reputation," he retorted. "People are talking. From now on, you leave men like him to me. I forbid you to associate with him. If you disobey me, I will send you back to England."

Abigail gave him a curt nod of assent, but she had no intention of obeying him. She would just have to be more discreet about seeing Obadiah from now on.

In any instance, they'd be leaving after Badajoz was secured, so she wanted every opportunity to see him in the time remaining. She had to make the most of it, because she knew she'd never have another opportunity to be with a man after she returned to her dreary life back home. She vowed to continue her adventures now and hoped the memories of the time spent with Obadiah would carry her through the rest of her life.

Abigail was relieved, however, to know that John apparently did not realise just how far her association with Obadiah Hakeswill had gone.

She sat with the group while John led them in prayer for the soldiers who would fight that night, silently adding an extra one for Obadiah. Later, when they decided to move closer in order to watch the battle from a safe distance, Abigail stood to excuse herself.

"I believe I will retire now. It has been a most distressing day and I know a good night's rest will do me good. I will see you both in the morning."

"Yes, that is a fine idea," John agreed. "I believe Marianne should retire as well. Watching a battle is not a fit activity for ladies."

Back in her tent, Abigail did not go to sleep, but sat on her cot in the dark, listening. She had decided to wait until both John and Marianne had gone to sleep, after which she would slip out of her tent in order to make sure she was there to greet Obadiah when he returned from battle.


	6. Out of the Frying Pan

Obadiah Hakeswill hurried through the streets of Badajoz, dodging drunken soldiers in his haste to get away. He hadn't gotten to do Sharpie's whore as he'd planned, because Sharpe and Harper had caught him before he could do the deed. He'd barely gotten away with his life, after Harper had shot at him with the big Nock gun.

He'd have to desert now because there had been too many witnesses when he'd killed the meddling Lt. Price who'd tried to prevent him from doing Teresa Moreno. Obadiah figured he had just enough time to grab a few things out of his tent, get his donkey, then go dig up his loot before buggering off out of the area.

After quickly making his way back down the breach, he'd carefully skirted the area where several camp followers had gathered to watch the battle from afar. The fewer people who noticed his departure, the better. If he was lucky, it would be some time before his absence was noted. In the confusion after the battle, it would be quite awhile before everyone was accounted for. He considered himself lucky that neither Sharpe nor Harper saw fit to immediately pursue him when he'd fled the Moreno home.

To his irritation, however, Abigail Prentice was loitering near his tent, no doubt waiting for him, when he arrived.

"What are you doing here, missy?" he demanded, as he went into his tent and began stuffing his haversack with essentials. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I had to make sure you were all right," she said breathlessly. "I wouldn't have been able to sleep without knowing that first."

"As you can plainly see, I'm fine," he said, twitching, as he continued to efficiently snatch up important items.

Suddenly noticing what he was doing. she asked, "What are you doing? Are you going somewhere?"

"What do you think?" he snapped. "'Course I'm going somewhere! I'm deserting."

"Whatever for?" she asked bewildered.

"I ain't got time to explain it none," he said. "Just got to get out of here 'fore Sharpie comes lookin' for me."

"I don't understand," she said helplessly.

Stopping for a brief moment, he glared at her, impatient with her naivete. "I done tried to rape Sharpie's wife and he caught me. And I killed an officer what tried to keep me off her, see? Satisfied now?" He didn't wait for her reply, but went back to his packing.

Gasping audibly, Abigail didn't have a reply for that. Obadiah Hakeswill was everything Richard Sharpe had warned her about and then some.

As she dumbly continued to watch him rush around his tent, a sudden notion popped into her head. Before she could think better of it, she grabbed his arm, then impulsively said, "Take me with you! I can't bear my cousin and his wife any longer."

Despite his shocking admission, she had realized, to her surprise, that she still wanted him nevertheless. And now that her cousin knew about her association with Obadiah, she'd essentially already burned her bridges behind her, anyway.

Jerking his arm out of her grasp, he growled, "Are you mad? You don't belong with me, missy. You're a lady and I'm just a miserable bastard from the gutter. And you'd slow me down tryin' to get out of here, you would."

"I promise I wouldn't be a hindrance," she pleaded. "I just want to be with you. No one else has ever made me feel so alive."

Giving her a second look, the wheels began to turn in Obadiah's head. Now that he thought about it, Abigail would make a fine hostage in case he was caught making his getaway. And if they got away clean, he'd have him a willing woman to take care of his needs. He could always dispose of her later if it became necessary.

"All right, missy," he said slowly. "But you needs to be ready to go right away. I can't wait around none for you."

"Just let me grab my valise out of my tent," she said, happy that he'd relented. "My clothes are already in there. But I want to write a note so they don't try to follow us to rescue me. My cousin already knows about you because one of the camp women told him she'd seen us walking together. He's threatened to send me back to England!"

"I've got some paper and a pencil in here," he said, twitching again. "Tell him we done run off together to elope. That preacher won't bother following then, 'cos he'll know I done had you and will figure it's the best thing." Handing her the pencil and paper, he added, "And the army won't put too much effort into chasing down one man, 'cos they got more important things to be doing right now."

She hastily scribbled a note to John, then they carefully crept to her tent, staying in the shadows to avoid detection. Few people were about and neither John nor Marianne were present as they reached her tent. Abigail went in and placed the note on her cot, then grabbed her valise after stuffing a couple of books inside. Not looking back, she rejoined Obadiah outside and whispered. "I'm ready. Let's go."

A short time later, Obadiah retrieved both the donkey and his buried loot and the couple set off into the night.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Several hours later, John White yawned and stretched as he emerged from his tent much later than usual. He had gone to bed later than he normally did, thus had overslept. He'd figured the soldiers who had survived the battle would be weary once they returned to camp, so he'd decided to take this one day off from his work.

Because he'd told Abigail the previous evening that this would be a day of rest, he was not overly concerned when she did not appear for the noon meal. They would be moving on as soon as Colonel Windham told them it was safe to travel, so he figured Abigail was getting some rest in preparation for the trip.

It wasn't until the evening meal when she still did not appear that he began to worry. Concerned that she might be unwell, he went to her tent and knocked on the pole. "Abigail, are you all right?"

When she did not answer, he stuck his head inside to check on her, but found the tent empty. His immediate thoughts were that she'd disobeyed him and had gone off to keep company with Sergeant Hakeswill. Thus, he did not look too closely and did not notice that her valise was missing, nor the note on her cot.

Letting the tent flap fall, he stalked off in search off in search of this Sergeant Hakeswill, after telling Marianne to wait for him in their tent. He vowed to himself to send Abigail back home on the very first boat if he found that she'd defied him and was with Hakeswill.

He soon found Hakeswill's tent, after asking a passing soldier where it was. After finding it empty as well, he began canvassing the camp, asking passersby whether they'd seen Abigail or even Hakeswill. To his consternation, no one had remembered seeing either of them since yesterday. As he continued to search fruitlessly, he apprehension grew.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Meanwhile, Richard Sharpe and Patrick Harper had finally returned to camp from Badajoz. Sharpe had spent most of the night with Teresa and their daughter, Antonia, protecting them from the marauding bands of looting and raping soldiers within the city, and to comfort her after her ordeal with Obadiah Hakeswill.

Patrick Harper had spent the night downstairs in the Moreno home with Ramona, a Spanish woman he'd rescued from a band of privates bent on rape. They'd gotten along so well during the night that Ramona had quickly accepted when Harper had invited her to stay with him permanently and to follow the army.

That morning, Sharpe had reported to Colonel Windham to return his wife's portrait to him that had been hidden inside Hakeswill's shako. Harper's rank had been quickly restored to him with Windham's apologies when the Colonel had been told that it had been Hakeswill all along who had done the stealing.

Next, they walked with the Colonel as they surveyed the casualties at the breach. Sharpe had lost none of his Chosen Men, but he was saddened to see Private Clayton's body piled up on top of many others who had lost their lives the previous night.

It was late afternoon before they returned to the camp for the night. After Harper had shown Ramona to his tent to stow her things and get settled, they went to find something to eat, not having taken the time to have a proper meal all day. Sharpe would sort out Obadiah Hakeswill later.

Before they could reach the mess tent, however, John White hurried up to them. "Lt. Sharpe! My cousin, Miss Prentice, is missing. I've looked all over camp and no one has seen her since last night!"

"When did you last see her?" Sharpe asked, frowning. He vaguely remembered her going after Obadiah Hakeswill on her first night in camp.

"Just before she retired last night," he said. "She didn't show for the noon meal, but I wasn't concerned then, as she often misses that. But when she did not appear for dinner, I went to her tent and found it empty. I've been searching the camp for her ever since."

"Why don't we try her tent again?" Sharpe suggested. "She might well have returned since you've been looking for her." He followed the preacher as he led the two soldiers to Abigail's tent.

As before, there was no answer when John knocked on the tent pole. "She's not in there," he said, unnecessarily.

Walking around him, Sharpe entered the tent to see if he could find any clues that might give them a hint as to Abigail Prentice's whereabouts. Almost immediately, he spotted the note on her cot that John White had missed earlier.

"Here's a note for you," Sharpe said, handing it to the preacher.

John White silently perused the short note:

_Dear John_

_Please excuse my hasty departure without a word to anyone. But I did not wish for you to try to dissuade me from what I feel is the right thing to do or, heaven forbid, send me back to England._

_Sergeant Hakeswill and I have decided to elope. Please don't try to find us and please don't worry about me. Obadiah makes me feel more alive that I ever have before and I am quite content with my decision._

_Sincerely,_

_Abigail_

Handing the note to Sharpe, John sat down weakly on Abigail's cot, where he then noticed that her valise was gone. So, she'd truly gone and done it, then. He could not believe his cousin's utter naivete to make such a rash, unwise move.

Looking up at Sharpe, he asked helplessly, "Why did they run off to elope? It's true that I would have refused to marry them, because I believe he would be a most unsuitable husband for her, but why didn't they go to your regimental chaplain or even to one of the Papist priests in Badajoz? I just don't understand."

"Well, I do," Sharpe snapped, shaking his head at the woman's utter stupidity. "That bastard tried to rape my wife last night - would have raped her, too, had Sergeant Harper and I not caught him in the act. And he shot and killed one of the lieutenants who tried to protect her from him." Snorting in derision, Sharpe added, "He's no doubt done deserted, taking your cousin with him."

White sat there in slack jawed astonishment. He'd been told that Hakeswill was an unrepentant sinner, but he'd had no idea just how debased he was.

Finally collecting himself, he said lamely, "I...see."

"Is that all you have to say?" Sharpe demanded. "Don't you want to go look for her?"

Still bristling at the man's lukewarm response, he continued, "I won't lie to you; they're no doubt long gone by now with this much of a head start. And the Colonel won't allow me to make a thorough search for them, because the army doesn't have the time nor the resources to hunt down every deserter, but I might could persuade him to send a small detachment for a day or so to try to find them."

"It won't be necessary," John said tightly, feeling very much betrayed by Abigail's thoughtless actions. "He has no doubt compromised her virtue by now and they would have to get married in any instance, now that she's ruined."

Rolling his eyes at the weedy preacher, Sharpe bluntly told him, "I got news for you. Hakeswill no doubt violated her the first night you were here. I warned her to leave him alone, but she wouldn't listen to me."

"I should have watched her more closely," White said. "But it's too late now. What's done is done. She's made her bed and now she will have to lie in it." Sighing gustily, he added, "I just don't know what I'm going to tell her mother when we return to England. She trusted me to protect Abigail and I've failed miserably."

Sharpe didn't comment; there was nothing to say. After excusing himself, he left the preacher to his misery.


	7. Life on the Run

Obadiah Hakeswill was satisfied overall with his relationship with the impetuous Miss Prentice. As she'd so fervently promised him in Badajoz, she had proven to not be a hindrance to him and nothing had happened yet to make him feel the need to get rid of her.

Instead, Obadiah had grown fond of Abigail and, to his surprise, had become quite attached to her. She had been his confidant, his lover, and sometimes, even a source of good ideas. Though at first she'd done some things to try to change him, she'd eventually ceased those efforts and now simply accepted him as he was. Best of all, being with her had helped him to not miss his mother quite so keenly as before.

And though there had been discomforts since leaving Badajoz and some recurring disagreements with one another as they learned how to live together, Abigail was also mostly content with Obadiah and their life together.

There had been some definite rough spots for the couple along the way, as both had been accustomed to their solitary lives and keeping to themselves. The natural give and take necessary to make an intimate relationship successful they'd had to learn from scratch, with a lot of trial and error along the way.

The way it had turned out was that the gently raised Abigail found herself giving way to Obadiah's stronger personality much more often than he made accommodations for her. However, despite the fact that the gutter-born Hakeswill sometimes irked her to distraction, Abigail still vastly preferred life with him to the poky, drab existence she'd known all her life back in England.

Though it was not what she'd originally envisioned, their time together had certainly been an adventure. He still made her laugh and now, as never before, she looked forward to getting up each morning, wondering what new experience she would have that day.

And after an extended peripatetic existence of moving from place to place, Abigail and Obadiah finally found themselves settled in a deserted convent in the town of Adrados. They had joined up with a large group of deserter soldiers of all the combatant nations and the group had recently taken over this convent.

Abigail had a particular reason to be especially thankful to be living at the convent. A couple of months before, she realized she was with child. Her monthly courses had ceased; she'd felt nauseated in the mornings, had persistent back pain, and she'd noticed her waistline thickening, despite the fact that their food supply had been meagre, more often than not.

Because of her sheltered upbringing, it had not occurred to her that she might be having a baby until one of the camp women Obadiah had assigned to help her with whatever she needed had pointed it out to her. Abigail had been of decidedly mixed feelings, when she'd first learned of her impending motherhood.

Her first reaction was shame, considering that being an unwed mother would make her a pariah back home in England. But she soon impatiently pushed that emotion away. She had chosen a different life and the rules were different here than at home. After that, she felt gratitude and wonder that she would get to become a mother, after all. God indeed worked in mysterious ways.

Still, she'd been rather apprehensive about how Obadiah would react. After all, a baby would certainly slow them down. As it turned out, however, she needn't have worried. Obadiah had been happy enough when she'd told him the news one evening after they'd bedded down for the night.

"_Obadiah?" Abigail said hesitantly, after he'd pulled the blanket up over them as they retired for the night, outdoors under a lean-to. "I have something I need to tell you."_

"_Make it quick, Abby," he said, yawning. "We got us an early start in the morning and I needs to get me a proper night's rest. You do, too."_

"_I'm going to have a baby," she blurted out before she lost her nerve. "I hope you aren't disappointed with me."_

_Sitting up, Hakeswill turned to look at her. Twitching briefly, he replied in a low voice, "I ain't disappointed, missy. Takes two to make a baby, it does. 'Sides, I already figured out that I done gave you a bellyful."_

"_You did?" She was flabbergasted._

"_You ain't had no bloody laundry for a long while and you've been throwing up regular-like lately," he elaborated, shrugging. "Ain't that hard to figure out."_

"_Why didn't you say something?" she asked, puzzled._

"_I was waiting for you to mention it," he said, twitching again. "'Sides, I've been busy keeping us alive and one step ahead of the army, see?" Leaning over to give her a brief kiss, he said, "Be nice to have us a little 'un, it will. I knows you'll be a fine mother, just as my own mother was."_

_Abigail blushed at hearing this bit of rare praise from Obadiah. She knew him well enough by now to know that being positively compared to his mother was the highest form of praise he was capable of._

"_Pot au Feu and I have been talking about finding us a permanent base," he told her. "With you havin' a bellyful is just that more motivation for us to find us a base with proper buildings to live in." Kissing her again, he growled, "Now, let's get us some sleep, eh?"_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Though Abigail was somewhat apprehensive about living in close quarters among so many rough men, she was glad not to be sleeping outdoors or in tents any longer. She'd been able to fix up their rooms comfortably, mostly because Obadiah had given her some money to buy a few things to make their quarters more home-like. She'd even managed to find a cradle for the baby soon to come.

Because Obadiah, along with the genial French cook, Pot au Feu, were in command of the deserter army, Abigail did not worry overmuch for her safety. Obadiah provided more than adequately for her protection, most of the time seeing to it himself. For the times he needed to be away from her to attend to business, he'd assigned a trustworthy private, Kelly, as her bodyguard, making clear to the young man that his life would be forfeit if any harm came to her.

She was rather uneasy about the two female hostages, whose spur of the moment abductions, one day apart, had not been planned.

"Do you think it's such a good idea to hold these women hostage?" she'd asked him the first night they spent at the convent. "We've done so well in avoiding the army so far. I fear that calling attention to ourselves with these ransom demands can only turn out badly. That Mr Sharpe strikes me as one who would rather attack than give you the gold."

"You don't know Sharpie like I do," Obadiah told her. "Got him a weakness for women, he does, and he ain't going to do nothing that might endanger their safety. 'Sides, that old decrepit fop what Lady Farthingdale is married to won't let Sharpie do nothin' that might cause his pretty young wife to get herself ruined. And we'll keep the ladies for awhile 'fore we sends out the ransom demands, so that they'll do anything to get the women back."

"I hope you're right," she said doubtfully.

"'Course I'm right!" he insisted, twitching. "I've known Sharpie for twenty years and I knows how he thinks."

"I just don't want you to take any unnecessary risks," she said gently. "I don't want anything happening to you."

"You leave it all to me," he told her, patting her hand. "I've been looking out for myself since I was a boy. Don't you worry none about me." Putting a possessive hand on her belly, he added, "We're going to need lots of things for our new little 'un and the gold we get for these hostages will help me to take better care of the both of you. Ain't your place to worry about where I gets it from."

"All right, Obadiah," Abigail said, her tone placating. "I trust you to take proper care of me and the baby."

She'd not mentioned it again to him, but the presence of the hostages still weighed on her mind, In her opinion, this situation would open a can of worms better left alone.

Part of her, however, thrilled in seeing the Frenchman's wife brought down a peg and humbled. In her opinion, more upper class people could use such a valuable life lesson,.

Lady Farthingdale, however, was not born to the upper classes; Abigail had interacted enough with her so-called betters to immediately recognize that Isabella was not of the manor born and had married above her station. When she'd mentioned this to Obadiah, he immediately agreed with her.

"Got a good eye, you do," he said, twitching. "Portuguese whore is what that one is, I'd wager."

"Time will tell," she speculated, her smile wry. "Perhaps we'll find out for sure once they pay the ransom."

"That I'd pay to see," Obadiah replied, cackling contentedly. He did not mention to her that he and Pot au Feu had agreed to double the ransom when Sharpe and the French party arrived to pay the two ransoms.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Driven by idle curiosity and boredom, Abigail decided to visit the hostages one day when Obadiah was busy with Pot au Feu.

"Hakeswill ain't going to like that none," Kelly, her ever-present bodyguard predicted darkly.

"He's not forbidden me to visit them," she pointed out. "Don't worry, I'm not going to set them free or anything. I know better than that. I'm just curious about them, is all."

"If you say so," Kelly said, still skeptical. "I'm going with you to make sure nothing happens."

Moments later, Abigail approached the cells where the two women were kept, with Kelly trailing a discreet distance behind, mumbling to himself.

The two women had come to their door grates to look out when they'd heard Abigail and Kelly approaching.

"I've come to see if you both are all right and if there's anything I can do for you to help make you more comfortable," Abigail announced when she saw them. "I will do what I can for you, within reason."

"The only thing you can get for us are the keys to open these doors," Isabella Farthingdale snapped, her voice dripping with scorn. She had seen the pregnant woman from a distance before and had asked one of the guards about her, so she knew Abigail was Hakeswill's woman.

"Isabella..." Sarah Dubreton called out reprovingly from her cell. She was just as revolted by the idea of this woman - any woman - being with Hakeswill of her own free will, but she knew it would do neither of them any good to antagonize Abigail. "We can at least listen to what the lady has to say. It's not as if we have anything better to do." Turning her attention to Abigail, she introduced herself. "I am Madame Sarah Dubreton. And you are...?"

"Miss Abigail Prentice," Abigail responded automatically. She wished she could have introduced herself as Mrs Hakeswill, but Obadiah hadn't seen fit to make true the lie she'd written in the note to John. So far.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Prentice," Sarah responded politely. Isabella did not speak, but listened intently, nonetheless. "As to your question, we are mostly fine, but we could each use another blanket, as the nights are rather chilly. We could also use more frequent attention to our chamber pots and more frequent wash water brought. It is most disagreeable living in close quarters without prompt attention to both matters."

"I'll see what I can do," Abigail responded. "These are reasonable requests, but I'm afraid I can only ask; I don't have any decision making power here."

Before Sarah could respond, Isabella cut in, "Surely Hakeswill's whore has the influence to get us such simple things?"

"You would know all about what a whore can get, I would imagine, Lady Farthingdale," Abigail popped back acidly. "After all, it got you a decrepit old husband from the aristocracy. I imagine that quim of yours must be solid gold."

Abigail had never spoken in such base terms before in her life, but being around Obadiah for all these months had rubbed off on her and, besides, Isabella had pushed her too far.

Before stalking off in a huff, Abigail moderated her tone and said, "I will try to get those items for you, Madame Dubreton."

"Told you so," Kelly said laconically as they descended the steps to return to the ground level.

Abigail was as good as her word. Obadiah agreed to her requests, which were then carried out. But she never bothered to visit the two hostages again. She made do with the English-speaking camp women for companionship when Obadiah was busy elsewhere.

Obadiah sent out the ransom demands shortly after this incident. And the day soon came when Richard Sharpe would visit the convent to deliver it. Abigail had prayed in the chapel the night before, hoping that all would go well and no one would be hurt.


	8. Bait and Switch

_**Author's note: ** Fittingly, I post this chapter on what would have been Pete Postlethwaite's 68th birthday._

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/_

"Now remember, missy, I wants you to stay close to me or Kelly while Sharpie and the Froggy officer are here to pay the ransom," Obadiah told Abigail the morning of the exchange. "I don't trust Sharpie not to try to snatch you away from me and drag you back to the army camp with him once he leaves here."

"I'd never thought of that," Abigail said, shivering. "I promise not to be anywhere by myself where he could reach me while they are in the convent." Her life with Obadiah wasn't perfect, but it was preferable to returning to her poky existence in England. And, as her pregnancy progressed, the more she cared for her baby's father.

"I've got a surprise set up for Sharpie and the Froggy officer, anyways," Obadiah confided, twitching briefly. "We'll all be up on the balcony, out of sight, when they both gets here. I've allowed each of them to bring one man with them which, in Sharpie's instance will no doubt be his best bootlicker, Harper. Once the four of 'em enter the convent, they won't find no one and they'll be looking 'round careful-like, expectin' an ambush, see?"

"I understand," she replied, nodding.

"When they all run into one another, they'll each think the other is the deserters they done come to meet, so's they'll attack each other," he continued, cackling at the very thought of it. "If I didn't want to kill Sharpie myself, I'd wish for the Froggy officer to do it. Anyways, it'll cause enough mayhem to throw 'em all off balance, so's they'll be more likely to do what we tells 'em and not to try nothin' stupid."

"I would think that they'd not do that, in any instance, for the sake of the safety of the two women," Abigail pointed out reasonably, knowing that things would go very badly for the women if they were to do so. She was under no illusion as to what Obadiah and Pot au Feu planned for them if their terms were not met.

By mid-morning, everyone was in place, after the lookout spotted Sharpe and Harper climbing up to approach the entrance to Adrados. Abigail stood close by Obadiah and Pot au Feu, nervous about what was soon to occur, but feeling safest by his side.

The hostages had been brought out, too, closely guarded by Kelly and Smithers, to watch the fun. Abigail gave Isabella Farthingdale one contemptuous look, then haughtily turned away to focus her attention on the two men.

The group didn't have long to wait, with them soon hearing the loud boom when Sharpe and Harper kicked the door in. Abigail instinctively retreated into the shadows, waiting with bated breath for her first sight of the two men. She sent up a little prayer that all this could be accomplished without anyone being hurt. Abigail didn't particularly like Mr Sharpe, but she still retained a fondness for Sergeant Harper, though she'd never admit it to Obadiah.

As soon as they appeared in the courtyard, Obadiah hissed, "Get down!", after which everyone quickly obeyed. Abigail leaned against a wall to support her back, after awkwardly ducking down. Pregnancy had definitely adversely affected her agility.

Obadiah spared her a glance, telling her, "Good place for you. You'll be safe there."

After he turned his attention back to the courtyard, sounds of a scuffle soon broke out, complete with the sound of clanging swords. Sharpie had no doubt encountered the two Frenchmen and the misunderstanding he and Pot au Feu had hoped for had predictably occurred. Obadiah eased himself up onto his knees, cautiously peering over the balcony at waist level.

Chortling gleefully at what he saw, he cut his eyes to where Abigail still leaned. "Come here, missy, and take a look at this!"

Reaching over, he helped her to her knees as she carefully glanced down at the scene below. "Oh, my, I hope no one gets hurt!"

"Tender hearted is what you are," Obadiah said softly, twitching. "I don't doubt that will make you a good mother to our little 'un, but that concern is misplaced on Sharpie."

She did reply, but sighed as he helped her ease back down to a sitting position.

Less than a minute later, the sounds of swordplay suddenly ceased and, shortly after that, Richard Sharpe's voice bawled, "Game's over!" After a moment's pause, he added, "Want your gold?"

Moving back into the shadows to stand, Obadiah gestured to Kelly and Smithers. "Bring the women!" Turning to Abigail, he said briskly, "Better come with me. I'll feel better knowing you're close by my side."

After emerging from the stairwell downstairs, Obadiah held one hand up for everyone to pause and remain silent.

"Go take the women to that room behind the chapel and wait there for me to bring Sharpie and that Froggy officer over to see 'em," he ordered Kelly and a French deserter, indicating a door to the corridor that led to the room in question. "Keep 'em quiet 'til we gets there."

After the hostages had been spirited away, Obadiah quietly crept forward, making sure to keep himself hidden by the covered wagon in the courtyard. Abigail and Pot au Feu trailed slightly behind him.

"I'll go out first," Obadiah murmured to Pot au Feu, who nodded in agreement.

Looking next at Abigail, he said, "You stays here with Pot au Feu and don't come out 'til he does."

A moment later, the scrawny ex-sergeant sauntered around from the corner of the wagon, smirking at an irate Richard Sharpe, who betrayed no surprise at seeing Obadiah Hakeswill decked out in a colonel's uniform.

"So glad you could make it, Sharpie," Obadiah drawled, twitching. He strolled over to the group as Sharpe narrowed his eyes at him, while explaining to the French officer, Dubreton, who Hakeswill was and why he hated him.

Moving closer, getting right in Sharpe's face, he demanded, "How's your Spanish whore, Sharpie?"

Patrick Harper, who had been so far glaring daggers at his former fellow sergeant, couldn't stand listening to Hakeswill any longer. Quick as a flash, he grabbed Hakeswill and put his rifle under the smaller man's neck and pulled up hard, trying to choke him. Obadiah reached up, trying to pull the rifle away, but Harper was too strong for him.

At that moment Abigail followed Pot au Feu as he stepped out into the open, with a handful of privates protecting them. Several other soldiers appeared pointing their weapons at the visitors at seeing the attack on Hakeswill.

She gasped at the sight of the normally mild-mannered Irish sergeant choking Obadiah, who was still struggling uselessly to get away from the larger man. Harper released him unwillingly a moment later, at Sharpe's order, after seeing all the weapons trained upon them.

Obadiah was still making choking sounds when he returned to stand at her side, next to Pot au Feu, who stepped up to engage the four men, inviting them to share a meal. She gave Obadiah a sympathetic look and briefly touched his arm, but did not otherwise fuss over him, as she knew he didn't like that sort of thing out in front of people. There would be plenty of time for that later, when they retired for the night. He gave her a brief glance in return but did not otherwise acknowledge her.

Sharpe and Harper exchanged glances at the sight of Abigail Prentice. If they were to be honest, neither man had given a thought to her when they'd come to Adrados until this moment. Harper raised an eyebrow when he noticed that she was obviously with child, but Sharpe wasn't even fazed. It was about what he would have expected.

"Miss...ah...Mrs...err," Harper stammered, not knowing quite how to address her."

"Miss Prentice," she replied stiffly She was still miffed at him for choking Obadiah.

"Miss Prentice," he repeated. He wasn't surprised that Hakeswill had not married her, despite the note she'd left for her cousin. "Is everything all right? Are you well?"

"How my woman is gettin' along ain't none of your concern, Paddy," Obadiah cut in, moving to stand between her and the four men. "You don't need to be speakin' to her none at all."

Pot au Feu, in the meantime, had been describing the meal he would make for them.

Bored with the cooking talk and wanting to get on with it, Obadiah said, "Enough with all the Froggy talk. You wants the women? Then give me the gold."

Sharpe and Dubreton both hurled the leather bags holding the gold coins at Hakeswill, causing him to stagger slightly from the weight.

Unfazed, he turned to Sharpe. "Want to see the women, Sharpie? Follow me." After gesturing to Abigail to stay out in the courtyard with Pot au Feu and the other men, he led the four men to the chapel.

After they'd gone, Abigail turned to Pot au Feu. "It seems to have gone well so far. I hope nothing goes wrong in the chapel. They could just grab Obadiah along with those women and drag him back to the army camp," she fretted.

"Do not worry, _ma cherie_," he reassured her. "Obadiah knows what he is doing. They will not try anything; not with so many men here who wouldn't let them leave this convent alive if they tried."

About fifteen minutes later, the four men emerged, without the women they'd just paid ransom for. Giving Pot au Feu a sideways glance, she saw that he was not surprised by this. She wondered what had happened, but would wait to ask Obadiah once they were alone for the night.

She quickly drew back behind two large privates when Sharpe unexpectedly came back into the courtyard. After taking a pot shot at Pot au Feu, he told the men that they had until New Year's Day to return to their units or else they would face the consequences. His announcement was met with scornful laughter.

As Sharpe left with the others, knowing he was wasting his breath, Obadiah stood in the doorway of the chapel watching, laughing at him for even trying. Glad that it was all over, Abigail went to join Obadiah, relieved to see him still in one piece.


	9. A Happy Interlude

Life settled back to its normal routine at the convent, such as it was, after Obadiah had sent Richard Sharpe packing without the women.

Abigail was unhappy with the plan Obadiah and Pot au Feu had concocted. They;d demanded more money rather than releasing the women as agreed, having told Sharpe to return in about a week with the additional payment. She had a bad feeling that their greed would come back to haunt them, and sooner, rather than later. They'd been paid for the original demand, and she believed they should have quit while they were ahead and been satisfied with what they had.

But she knew she'd be wasting her breath if she mentioned her concerns to either of them. Obadiah would simply tell her it was none of her concern and that it was up to him to support them in any way he saw fit. They were bound and determined to get as much money out of this as possible and that was the end of it as far as they were concerned.

Instead, Abigail continued to spend a good deal of her time making clothing for the baby to come. She felt better when she was doing something constructive with her hands; it kept her from fretting so much.

And with Christmas soon to come, she'd also been busy making gifts. For Obadiah, she'd knitted a set of long woolen underwear, knowing that he must especially feel the cold, as rawboned as he was. Added to that were some warm socks and gloves, and she'd done some for Pot au Feu and Kelly as well. And for both her and Obadiah, she was making a blanket for their bed.

Knowing that Pot au Feu had planned an elaborate Christmas meal with all the trimmings, she was especially looking forward to the holiday this year, knowing it would be far more festive than the quiet, almost solemn holidays she'd passed with her family back home.

It had been a good time for her and Obadiah since settling into the convent. They'd spent many companionable evenings in their quarters by the fire with her doing needlework, as he smoked his pipe, while engaging in conversation before going to bed. It was during these quiet evenings together that the two really got to know one another well.

One night, a few days before Christmas, Abigail asked Obadiah about something that had been on her mind since she'd realized she was with child, "How long are we going to be staying with the deserter army? I can't imagine you plan to remain with them indefinitely."

"You're right, missy, I don't." he told her, twitching briefly. "Neither our army nor the Froggies are going to put up with a deserter army for too long 'cos we're playin' hell with their discipline. Mark my words, as soon as they can take some time off from fightin' each other, they'll be here to put an end to us."

Clearing his throat, he continued, "But I hope for you and me to be long gone by then. Once you've done had that little 'un and I've got us some more gold, we'll bugger off and find us a nice place to settle down, far away from ol' Sharpie and any army."

"Where would you like to live?" Abigail asked. "Some place with a warm or a cold climate?"

"Hadn't really thought much about it, missy," he said, twitching, then taking a draw on his pipe as he considered her question. "Maybe America? Ain't no way Sharpie or the army would come looking for me there."

"That sounds like a good idea," she agreed happily. "I've always wanted to go there."

"We'll likely go as soon as our little 'un is big enough to travel," he decided, rising from his chair. "Come on, Abby, let's go to bed and get us a bit of a scratching 'fore we goes to sleep."

Some time later, Abigail drifted off to sleep, snuggled spoon fashion with Obadiah, as she imagined a brighter future soon to come

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Christmas Eve dawned cool and clear. There was a flurry of activity within the convent as the men made preparations for a celebration that night. Pot au Feu was in the kitchen making the elaborate Christmas feast, while Obadiah had sent several men out to lay in a supply of alcohol for the night's festivities.

In her condition and being somewhat naturally reserved, Abigail wasn't particularly thrilled by the prospect of a night of loud, drunken debauchery, but she kept it to herself. She knew this party was Obadiah's and Pot au Feu's reward to the men for having done such a good job helping them steal over the last several months, so she'd decided to just make the best of it. After enjoying the delicious meal the Frenchman was cooking them, she would make a brief appearance at the party before excusing herself to get some rest.

"I don't know when I've had a better Christmas dinner," Abigail told Pot au Feu late that afternoon. "Our cook at home was sadly lacking."

"Got to agree there," Obadiah put in, twitching briefly as he patted his stomach. "I keep eatin' like this and I'll end up fat, eh?"

"You, fat?" Abigail laughed merrily at the rather absurd notion. "I don't think that's possible. You've been a hearty eater the entire time we've been together and I doubt if you've ever gained an ounce."

Looking sideways at Abigail, he noted, "'Course, I been eatin' army food since I was twelve and 'fore that, my mother never could afford to feed us very well and we never had us no cook. Ain't no wonder I don't gain weight."

Abigail mentally castigated herself for mentioning her family's cook at home. Since being with Obadiah, she'd made a special point of not calling attention the disparity in their backgrounds, as it served no helpful purpose to do so. Obadiah did not seem to mind her mention of the family cook, but Abigail always felt better if she kept their differences to a minimum. She lived in his world now and there was no point in talking about the life she had left behind.

At the conclusion of the meal, Obadiah rose from the table, taking Abigail's hand. Twitching as he turned to Pot au Feu, he said, "Go ahead and start the party without me. I'll be back later but, for now, me and Abby are going to have our Christmas a bit early, see?"

The Frenchman winked at him, chuckling heartily. "Take your time, mon ami. The party will be here when you come back. We aren't going anywhere." With a sweep of his hand, he indicated the men and camp followers who had already gathered in the courtyard to begin their revelry.

A short time later, Obadiah closed the door to their quarters behind them, then went to build up the fire in the hearth.

"Thought we'd have us some time alone together so's I could give you your Christmas gifts," he told Abigail, as he joined her sitting in front of the fire. "Tomorrow, I might be too tired to do much, if I have too much to drink tonight. Figured we'd best do Christmas tonight, see?"

"Good idea," she replied, moving to retrieve the gifts she'd hidden away as he did the same. "I have some gifts for you as well."

"Ain't that nice," he said casually, his tone of voice not betraying the emotion he was feeling.

Obadiah had never before given nor received Christmas gifts in his entire forty-two years and it was an odd feeling for him to be doing so now. As a boy, his mother had never had money for such luxuries as gifts; her love had been the only gift he'd ever had from her. Abigail could never really know just how much this Christmas meant to him.

He joined her in front of the fire after grabbing his haversack, where he'd hidden his gifts for her.

Smiling shyly at him, Abigail said, "I'll go first. It isn't much, but I made it for you myself." She handed him a soft, cloth wrapped bundle, watching intently for his reaction.

After opening the package, Obadiah examined the knitted items closely. Twitching slightly, he said, "These are the nicest gifts I ever got. Won't have to worry none about gettin' cold wearing these this winter." He left unspoken that this was the first time anyone had ever given him anything without expecting something in return.

"I'm glad you like them," she said, still smiling. "I also made a new blanket for our bed, but that gift is for both of us." She reached down to show him that, opening it up to display the blanket to its best advantage.

"We'll use that tonight," he said, visibly pleased. Opening his haversack, he handed her two packages; one similar to the one she handed him along with a very small box. "Here's a couple of things what I got for you."

Opening the first gift, Abigail found a sage green silk shawl. "Oh, how lovely!" Leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, she added, "I can't wait to wear it."

"Open this one now, missy," he said eagerly, handing her the small box.

"Oh, my!" Abigail said, finding a gold ring set with a single round amethyst. She knew the ring was most likely stolen, but she did not care. Holding it up in front of the fireplace, she watched as the flames reflected off the stone's facets.

"You like it, Abby, eh?" he asked, "I thought you would when I first clapped eyes on it."

"I love it," she replied fervently. "I'll never take it off."

"Let's see if it fits," Obadiah said, taking the ring to slip it on her finger. Cackling in contentment a moment later, he added, "Fits perfectly, it does."

She looked into his blue eyes as he continued to hold her hand as he admired the ring on her finger, wondering if he intentionally meant the implied symbolism of his actions.

His eyes met hers and, for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of love there, though she wasn't sure if he'd recognize it for what it was if he felt it. As if reading her thoughts, he leaned close to give her a gentle kiss.

"Let's go have us a lie-down and try out that new blanket, eh?" he said, his voice more husky than usual.

Wordlessly, Abigail took his hand as she followed him to the bed.

A few hours later, Obadiah awakened, with Abigail still sleeping peacefully beside him. As he sat up, he could hear the sounds of revelry still going on in the courtyard. And though he'd promised Pot au Feu he'd join the party that night, he instead rolled over and wrapped his arm around Abigail's waist, soon dropping contentedly back into slumber.


	10. Captured!

A few hours later, Obadiah was awakened by new sounds. The sounds of revelry had been replaced by the sound of explosions, coming from the courtyard, as near as he could estimate.

As he quickly jumped out of bed and pulled his trousers on, Abigail rolled over and sat up blearily.

"What's going on, Obadiah?" she asked, her head still muddled by sleep. "What's that noise?"

"That's what I'm about to find out, missy," he replied as he put on his new socks. "Stay here 'til I tells you it's safe. Might be a good idea to get dressed and collect some things for us in case we has to bugger off sudden like."

She didn't have to wait long. Before she could finish dressing, Obadiah was back, worry evident on his bony face as he quickly shut the door behind him.

"Sharpie's here with his men attacking us," he reported, twitching nervously. "It's a bleedin' mess out there." Pausing to catch his breath, he continued, "We needs to bugger off out of here quick as we can. You gather up as much as we can carry on a horse, then go wait for me in the stables."

"Why aren't you coming with me now?" she asked, perplexed.

"Got to go get my gold from where I done hid it," he explained. "We'll be needin' it."

Obadiah rushed off again, not waiting for her reply, trusting that she would do as he said. He had to take a circuitous route to go to where he'd stashed his loot so that Sharpe and his men wouldn't see him. But as he peeked out into the courtyard and saw the fracas there, he doubted that anyone would have noticed him had he stepped out and taken the most direct route to his gold. Still, he did not take the chance and took the longer route, anyway.

After he'd retrieved the gold, he grabbed a couple of pistols, along with ammunition. Carefully making his way back, he looked briefly in the room he'd shared with Abigail. Seeing that she was already gone, he moved on, undetected, to the stable.

Moments later, he found her pacing nervously inside the stable, with her valise and a bag of his things resting on a stall wall near her. No sooner had he shut the stable door than she said, "There's only one horse!"

"That's all right, missy," he said, twitching. "One's all we need. You'll ride double with me. That way I don't have to worry none about you being able to keep up, see?"

She nodded, but still looked dubious.

"Just give me a couple of minutes here to saddle the horse and we'll bugger off real quick-like, eh?"

"Where will we go?" she asked, as she watched him begin to saddle the horse.

"We'll head for the coast," he told her. "Then we'll find us a ship and go somewhere far away from Sharpie and the army. America or Canada, maybe."

"What about food?" she said. "I don't have any in my valise."

"Can't chance trying to get to the kitchen now, missy," he told her. "We'll get something in the first little town we comes to. If worse comes to worst, I can hunt us up some rabbits or something. I used to do quite a bit of that when I was a lad and me and my mother didn't have much to eat."

He finished saddling the horse shortly thereafter, having also attached saddlebags. He then put his bag of gold into Abigail's valise, burying it beneath her clothing, knowing it would be safe there. After putting the valise and his bag into the saddlebags, he turned to her. "Come on, let me give you a leg up here, so's we can go."

Once she was settled on the horse, Obadiah swung up behind her, placing his two pistols into saddle holsters on either side of the horse.

"Let's get out of here, missy." Without another word, he urged the horse out of the stable onto the streets of Adrados, heading toward the road leading west.

Abigail sighed, unhappy to have to leave their comfortable rooms at the convent. She'd hoped she would have been able to give birth there, where there was both a doctor and a midwife available in the small town. But she'd rather lose their rooms than lose Obadiah, so she was determined to make the best of it.

Obadiah was oblivious to her ruminations, concentrating solely on getting out of town without being caught. As they neared the road that would lead them to the Portuguese coast, he heard approaching hoofbeats. He reined the horse in to wait, pausing by some trees and tall bushes that lined the road, hoping the rider would pass by without seeing them

"Keep quiet, Abby," he hissed as he opened the flap to his saddle holsters, ready for anything. "Someone's coming." Not looking at her, he kept his eyes on the break in the trees to see who it might be.

A moment later, Teresa Moreno appeared, turning onto the road leading into town. Shereined her horse quickly when she saw the sniggering Obadiah Hakeswill waiting for her. Acting on instinct, she drew her pistol and pointed it at him.

Reacting instantly, he shoved Abigail forward, pushing her head down as he drew his pistol and pointed it at her head.

"Sharpie's whore," Obadiah cackled nastily, twitching as he regarded the Spanish woman with malevolence. "Put that pistol down, lassie, or I'll blow this one's brains out. Count on it." He gave Abigail's head another hard shove to underline his point.

Abigail inhaled sharply, terrified by Obadiah's abrupt, rough treatment of her, not at all certain that he wouldn't do what he'd threatened. Though she'd been warned of his reputation and seen him act harshly toward others, he'd always been gentle with her. Suddenly, it was if she'd never really known this man.

Teresa Moreno hesitated. She figured this had to be the woman Richard had told her about, who had gone with Hakeswill when he'd deserted from Badajoz. She considered for a moment that he might be bluffing. But she didn't want to gamble this woman's life on that assumption, so she reluctantly lowered her pistol and put it away.

Cackling again, Obadiah slowly removed the pistol from Abigail's head, then suddenly turned it on Teresa and fired.

As the shot hit her, Teresa's eyes widened in shock at the sudden pain. She could hear Hakeswill still cackling as she began to fall from the horse.

He replaced his pistol in the saddle holster, as Teresa fell backwards off the horse onto the ground, satisfied that she was no longer a threat. It was only then that he realized that Abigail was still hunched over, trembling uncontrollably.

Putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, he eased her back into a seated position, and turned her face to make her look at him. Seeing the fear still evident in her expression, he told her, "I wouldn't have hurt you, Abby; you're going to be the mother of my son. You should have known I was bluffing, eh?"

Abigail continued to tremble, not yet able to respond.

"That one could have made a lot of trouble for us," he explained, twitching briefly. "I had to make it look good. Didn't have time to warn you none about it, see?"

"Is that Mr Sharpe's wife," Abigail asked in a small voice. She didn't add her unspoken thought about her being the one he'd tried to rape.

"That's her," he replied briefly.

"Did you have to shoot her?" she asked timidly. "She put her gun down."

"She pointed her pistol at me first, missy, and she wasn't doing no bluffing. She would have shot me, mark my words."

When Abigail remained silent, he added, "She wasn't no lady like you, see? She rode with the Spanish partisans and done killed a lot of Froggies. She's so good at slittin' men's throats with a knife that they call her La Aguja. That means 'The Needle' in Spanish." Clearing his throat he concluded, "It was going to be her or me and I done made sure it wasn't me."

"I understand," she said simply. She was still rattled, but was no longer terrified.

Slipping down from the horse, Obadiah said, "I'm going to go through her pockets. She might have some gold and maybe some food. Won't take but a couple of minutes. We'll take her horse with us, too, 'cos we could sell it and get us some more gold."

Reaching up a hand to Abigail, he said, "Come help me, so's we can get out of here faster. I needs for you to hold her horse and keep 'im calm. And go through the saddlebags and see what you can find what we can use."

She merely nodded, too numb to be horrified by the idea of scavenging from a dead or dying woman. Obeying him out of habit, she talked softly to the horse, as she opened the saddle bags and began to rifle through them, keeping her eyes averted from the stricken woman on the ground.

As Obadiah knelt down to search Teresa Moreno, he found her just barely clinging to life. She was conscious, however, and aware of his presence, but gasping for air. Trying to speak as he efficiently went through her pockets, her eyes followed his movements.

"Don't waste your breath, missy," Obadiah told her in a low voice. "You won't be needin' none of this stuff where you're going, so there's no need for it all to go to waste." He continued with his work, pocketing a few pieces of gold and collecting a bit of ammunition to go with her pistol, which he'd already confiscated.

Just as he was about to tug off her boots for Abigail, he heard the unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked behind him. He turned his head to see the mounted French officer, Dubreton, pointing a pistol at him, accompanied by several of his men.

"Put down your pistol," Dubreton ordered harshly. "On you feet! Disobey me and I will turn you over to Captain Sharpe!"

Knowing there was nothing for it, Obadiah slowly rose to his feet. "I surrender myself to you, sir," he said, "Deal with me how you will, but don't turn me over to Sharpe."

"Agreed"

Abigail came out from behind the horse, having been partially hidden from the Frenchmen by the horse's bulk. She watched in numb dismay as one of the French soldiers dismounted and forcefully dragged Obadiah over to their leader. A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach began as she realized that her fears about a bad ending to the hostage situation were coming true.

Now standing by Dubreton's horse, Hakeswill looked up indignantly at the haughty Frenchman. "You gave me your word!"

"I'll deal with you myself," Dubreton said scornfully. "And I will!" Leaning forward, the Frenchman quickly backhanded Hakeswill, showing the utter contempt he felt for this man.

As Obadiah rubbed his cheek, Dubreton indicated to one of his men to bind Hakeswill's hands and to attach a long lead to his saddle. Other men went to carefully lift the dying Teresa Moreno into the two wheeled cart they had with them.

It was only then that the French officer noticed Abigail, obviously pregnant, still standing by the horse, almost frozen in shock.

"Who are you, Madame?" Dubreton asked gently. He had not remembered her from his first trip to the convent. "Were you a hostage?"

Before Abigail could respond, Obadiah cut in, "She wasn't no hostage. That's my woman."

"I believe I was speaking to the lady," Dubreton said, his patience near an end. Turning to Abigail, he asked, "Is what he said true?"

Finding her voice, she replied wearily, "Yes, that is correct. I was not a hostage; I'm here of my own free will." After an awkward pause, she gulped, then added, "I am Miss Abigail Prentice." Tears had appeared at the corners of her eyes.

"My regrets, Madame," he replied softly, puzzled at how and why such an obviously well-spoken woman had ended up with a guttersnipe like Obadiah Hakeswill.

She did not reply but went to take her place by Obadiah, leading their horse behind her. Her lip quivered to see him as a prisoner with his hands bound.

"I'm with you, Obadiah," she whispered, as she gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I won't leave you."

"'Preciate it, missy," he said sadly, twitching nervously. Leaning closer, he murmured, "Remember that the gold is in your valise. Sharpie won't search through a woman's personal things, but make sure that no one sees it."

She nodded briefly, then moved closer to link her arm with his. Holding her head high she walked beside him as the procession made its slow way back to Adrados.


	11. Harper's Intervention

As the procession re-entered Adrados, they were just in time to see the surviving deserters, with Pot au Feu at their head, being led away as prisoners. Abigail and Obadiah exchanged disheartened glances, but were not surprised when Obadiah was not added to this group, but was led further into the town, where Sharpe and his men, Lord Farthingdale, the two former hostages, and several others waited.

Dubreton had put the cart carrying Teresa Moreno in front, so this was the first thing Richard Sharpe noticed. Obadiah, for the moment, was left ignored as the army officer rushed to his dying wife's side.

While attention was focused on Sharpe and Teresa as they shared their last moments together, Obadiah leaned close to Abigail to whisper in her ear. "If something happens to me, missy, you needs to get Pot au Feu's gold, too. He won't be needin' it no more where he's going."

"Oh, don't be saying that!" she hissed back, unable at this point to consider what was likely to happen to Obadiah."

"Listen to me, Abby," he replied, his voice raspy. "It ain't lookin' real good for me right now and you and our little 'un will need that money." Glancing around to make sure no one was listening to him, he continued, "Pot au Feu's gold is at the bottom of that old dry well out in back of the convent. All you has to do is bring the bucket back up to the top like you was gettin' you some water." Twitching nervously, he gave her a serious look, then concluded, "Promise me you'll get it 'fore you leaves this place."

"I promise," she said after a long pause. "But we're going to go get it together. Just you wait and see!"

Obadiah did not reply, knowing her optimism was groundless, barring a miracle of some sort.

Several minutes later, Richard Sharpe stood and moved a few steps away from the cart, after Teresa had slipped away, lost in his grief.

"I'm truly sorry, Monsieur," Dubreton said formally, after Sharpe had slowly straightened up. Indicating Hakeswill with a jerk of his thumb, he added, "This is the man who killed your wife."

Narrowing his eyes as he beheld his mortal enemy, Sharpe said in a tired voice, "A liar, a thief, a rapist, and a murderer. That's not a man. Take it away."

Abigail gasped in indignation at hearing Richard Sharpe's comment, but otherwise remained silent, remembering that the man had just lost his wife.

"Don't pay him no mind, missy," Obadiah told her in a tired voice. "What he thinks don't matter." He fell silent again as the mounted soldier leading him moved off again and they walked away from Sharpe and his men.

As Abigail followed, she noticed Isabella Farthingdale smirking in satisfaction as Obadiah was led away in disgrace. She acted as if she'd not noticed the former hostage's scorn, but merely held her head higher.

Obadiah was led back inside the convent, where he was turned over to some English soldiers waiting there. As they untied him from the lead, Obadiah whispered to her, "Get your valise from the horse and put it back in our rooms until this is all over." He left unspoken the idea that she should not leave the bag containing the gold out in the courtyard unattended.

Understanding his unspoken thoughts, Abigail quickly retrieved the valise, plus Obadiah's bag of clothes, then took her place by his side again just as the soldiers were about to take him upstairs. She followed as they led him to Lady Farthingdale's old cell and locked him inside.

After the soldiers had moved off, with one taking up a post near the stairwell, Abigail moved close to the cell's window grate. "Oh, Obadiah, what are we going to do?"

"Not much we can do, missy," he said glumly, twitching. "But you needs to go get you a nap. We got up a lot earlier than normal today. You needs to rest for the baby's sake, if not your own."

"I'm afraid to leave you, Obadiah," she replied fretfully. "Suppose Mr Sharpe comes and takes you away while I'm gone?"

"He ain't going to do nothin' right away," he reassured her, poking his fingers outside the grate to link with hers. "All he's thinkin' of right now is burying that wife of his. And I overheard some of them talkin' about a bunch o' Froggies headin' this way, so's I'm guessing he'll be wanting to deal with them first 'fore dealing with me, see?"

"All right," she agreed dubiously. "But just for a little while." She squeezed his fingers briefly before stepping away. "I'll be back soon."

"I'll be here," he quipped. "I ain't going nowhere."

Back in their quarters, Abigail tossed and turned, but was unable to fall asleep. Obadiah's scent permeated the bed linens, which only served as a reminder of the predicament he was in. Plus, it had been so long since she'd slept alone that it now felt odd to her.

Giving up after about an hour, she got up and hurried back to Obadiah's cell. The guard was still posted nearby, but other than turning to watch, he did not interfere with Abigail's visit.

"Back so soon, missy?" Obadiah said. "That wasn't much of a nap."

"I couldn't sleep," she explained. "I couldn't help but worry."

"You at least needs to go get yourself something to eat," he urged. "I can smell them cooking something down there now. Why don't you go down and eat, then bring me something back up here, eh? And listen careful to find out what's going on. Sharpie still ain't come up here to deal with me yet."

But when she went for food, Abigail did not hear anything more than what Obadiah had already heard. For the next several days, the two were left in limbo as to what would happen and when. Abigail did not stray far from his cell for that time, leaving only to eat and to sleep, finally able to rest out of sheer exhaustion.

Obadiah, however, had no doubt about what Richard Sharpe had in store for him; the man had promised to kill him several times since Obadiah had first arrived in Spain. He'd escaped from Sharpie countless times in the past but now he knew his luck had run out.

"I want you to know, missy, that these months with you have been the happiest of my life," Obadiah told her the day after his capture. "I appreciates the way you've looked after me." After clearing his throat, he looked intently into her eyes and added, almost inaudibly, "I loves you, Abby; you knew that, eh?"

He'd never before told her so, but she knew. Swallowing hard, she said, "I knew. And I love you, too, Obadiah. More than you can ever know." She stopped for a moment, overcome by emotion to finally hear him say the words.

"It's been the best time of my life, too," she finally continued, leaning her head against the grate, while linking fingers with him again. "Before I met you, I wasn't living, but just existing."

"I wish they'd let you in here, so's I could hold you close," Obadiah said gruffly. "Don't feel right havin' to sleep without you. I done got used to it, I did."

"I already asked," she admitted. "They laughed at me."

"Not at all surprised, missy," he replied, twitching. "It's almost enough to know at least you wanted to."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/

Several days later, the day of reckoning came for Obadiah Hakeswill. Early one morning, not long after Abigail had brought Obadiah his breakfast and had seated herself on a chair one of the guards had brought for her, Richard Sharpe appeared. Patrick Harper was close behind him, and the rest of his Chosen Men stood waiting at the entrance to the stairwell.

Ignoring Abigail, he strode purposefully up to Obadiah's cell. "Time to pay the piper, Obadiah! You ain't getting away from me this time; it's finally the end of the road for you."

"Don't I get no formal court martial?" Hakeswill demanded. "It ain't fair for you to decide, 'cos you hates me and all that."

"Fair?" Sharpe exploded. "Don't talk to me about fair, Obadiah. If life was fair you would have got what was coming to you years ago - before you killed my wife." Warming to his subject, he continued, "I got you dead to rights this time. You done deserted, there are witnesses to you killing Lt. Price and my wife. It's the firing squad for you."

Abigail gasped, leaning heavily against the wall to keep herself from falling. "Oh, no, no no, you can't do that. We're about to have a child and he'll need his father. I need him! You can't take Obadiah away from me!"

Sharpe noticed Abigail for the first time, raising his eyebrow at her. He bit back his instinctive response; that if one associated with dogs, then they shouldn't be surprised to end up with fleas.

Instead, he replied, "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. Sergeant Hakeswill must answer to justice."

"But I'll be all alone if you take Obadiah from me!" she almost wailed. Gesturing briefly to her swollen abdomen, she added, "I can't go home to England as an unwed mother. There would be no place for me there! Please spare him, I beg of you."

"Least you could do is let me marry Abigail proper, 'fore you takes your revenge on me, Sharpie," Obadiah put in. "I'd rest easier knowin' she could get home and have a home to raise our little 'un."

"Why in the hell should I do anything for you?" Sharpe snapped back, exasperated.

Patrick Harper, who had been listening silently to the exchange, came up behind Sharpe to speak quietly to him. "Sir, might I have a word with you in private? It won't take but a minute."

The two comrades in arms walked to the stairwell opposite the one where the Chosen Men waited, sufficiently far as to be out of earshot.

Facing away from the group watching them, Sergeant Harper said, "I know you don't like Hakeswill; I can't stand the miserable sod, myself, so I can't." Heaving a deep sigh, he added, "But you should let him and Miss Abigail get married before he's executed."

Holding up a patient hand to stay Sharpe's instinctive knee-jerk reaction, he continued. "Don't do it for Obadiah; do it for her. It'll be better for her and the wee one to come if she goes home properly married, even to a worthless bastard like Hakeswill. She wouldn't have no chance at all as an unwed mother. If you don't allow it, the only one you'll be punishing is her. Obadiah will be dead in either instance, so he will."

"She should have known better than to get tangled up with the likes of him," Sharpe said lamely, knowing that the sergeant was right. "Her predicament is her own fault".

"So it is, sir," Harper agreed. "But she's not the only one to go foolish for love. I've heard it said that love is blind and I've never seen that to more true than in this instance. Believe it or not, she loves the bastard, though God only know why."

After both men chuckled briefly, Harper concluded, "Let's show some compassion for Miss Abigail. I think Miss Teresa would have wanted you to do it."

"All right, Pat," Sharpe conceded wearily. "I'll let them get married. Go see if there's anyone among Frederickson's men who can perform the ceremony. I thought I heard him say that one of his men used to be a curate." Heaving a gusty sigh, he added, "And I suppose we'll have to help her get back to England after this is all over, too."

"It would only be right, sir," Harper replied.

"Let me know when you've found someone to marry them," Sharpe said. "I'll be downstairs getting myself something to eat in the meantime." Without another word, he turned on his heel, passing Abigail and Obadiah without speaking on his way back down the stairs, followed by the Chosen Men.

Harper followed more slowly, pausing in front of Abigail, who still stood resolutely by Obadiah's cell.

"Mr Sharpe has decided to let you and Obadiah get married, after all," Harper told her briefly. "I'm going to go see if I can find a preacher among the men, so you should be sayin' your goodbyes while you can, because I imagine he'll be wanting to get on with the execution right after, I don't doubt."

Noting the suspicious expression on Obadiah's face, he snapped, "I didn't do it for you, Obadiah! I did it for Miss Abigail!"

Abigail gave the Irish sergeant a blank stare, still overcome by the knowledge that her man was soon to be executed and that the life they'd planned together would never be.

"Beggin' your pardon, I need to be finding the preacher, so I do," Harper finally said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

And with that, he left the couple alone once more, perhaps for the last time, save for the sentry who remained at his post by the stairwell.

"


	12. Unrepentant to the End

**After the couple was left in relative privacy once more, Abigail began to weep softly, her distress almost too much to stand. Wordlessly, she reached up to link fingers with Obadiah again, needing the warmth of his skin, as if to store the memory of his touch for the years ahead when he'd no longer be by her side.**

"**Obadiah, I don't think I can bear this!" she cried, leaning her head against the grate, now sobbing audibly.**

**They stood in wordless commiseration for a long moment as they contemplated the dismal situation. Obadiah squeezed her fingers gently with his own as he reached out with his other hand to brush away her tears.**

"**Don't worry none about me, missy," he said gruffly, near tears himself. "I ain't afraid to die. My mother has been waitin' for me for so long and I'm lookin' forward to seein' her again, I am. You live for our little 'un and don't ever forget me. The time I had with you was the happiest I've ever been, even happier than when I still had my mother. I'm only sorry we didn't have no more time together and that I won't get to see my boy."**

**As Abigail nodded dejectedly, he continued, "When I survived being hanged, I felt like I'd been spared for a reason and for years, I thought I couldn't die 'cos I survived so many dangerous things where I could have died: bein' in battle, all the times Sharpie tried to kill me in India, and so on. It was like my mother was protectin' me from heaven all these years. Seems like that protection has run out now, and she's needin' me with her now, see?"**

"**But I need you here! How will I raise a child alone?"**

"**Listen to me, missy. I wants you to go back to England after all this is over," he told her. "With my gold and Pot au Feu's gold, you'll have you plenty to buy you a little cottage, so's you don't have to live with your mother no more. Be enough to hire you a cook and a maid, too, I'm thinking. I'll go to my grave and be able to rest easier knowing you got you a home to raise our little 'un in." **

**After a pause, he added, "And don't use none of that gold to pay for gettin' home. So far as Sharpie knows, you ain't got no money, so don't tell him or Harper no different. Let the army pay to get you home and you save the gold to use once you get there."**

"**I will," she promised. "But I'll always dream of the life in America that we would have had. And when our child is old enough, I'll tell him all about his father, the grand adventures we had, and the things we planned to do. I'll make him know you through my stories."**

**Overcome with emotion, Obadiah did not reply for a long moment as he got himself under control. "See that you don't forget me," he finally croaked, twitching again. After a moment, he continued, "We'd have had us a houseful of kids, eh?"**

"**No doubt," she replied, her voice equally shaky. "It would have been a good life." Swallowing nervously, a lump in her throat, she added, "I wish we'd found one another years ago."**

**/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/**

**It was a few hours before Richard Sharpe returned, because Harper had had a hard time locating someone who could perform the wedding ceremony. The sergeant had eventually found a corporal in Captain Frederickson's unit who had once been a clergyman before losing his wife and subsequently joining the army.**

**Abigail was still maintaining her vigil in front of Obadiah's cell when they returned. She'd only briefly left him, to retrieve his old sergeant's jacket from their quarters, so that he could be properly dressed for their wedding. She'd not eaten lunch, however; there would be all the time in the world for such mundane activities once Obadiah was gone. For now, she would remain by his side until the end.**

"**This is Corporal Turner," Sharpe told Abigail curtly, as he indicated a compact, bespectacled middle-aged man by his side. "He was a curate before joining the army and he will perform your wedding ceremony."**

**Looking at Turner, he said, "Go ahead and get started. I want to get this wedding out of the way as quickly as possible."**

**Raising an eyebrow at the impatient officer, Turner asked, "Aren't you going to let this man out of the cell so he can hold his bride's hand as I perform the ceremony? Even a condemned man deserves that dignity."**

**Sharpe was about to deny his request out of hand, but Harper's quiet voice at his side stopped that instinctive reaction.**

"**He won't get away this time, sir," Harper said, his voice so low that only Sharpe could hear him. "Men up here and down in the courtyard will make sure of that, so they will." After a pause, he added, "Let Miss Abigail have a proper wedding. It's all she'll have to hold on to once he's gone."**

**Exhaling loudly in resignation, he murmured, "All right, Pat. But watch the bastard carefully."**

"**Of course, sir!"**

**As the guard opened the cell, Sharpe watched closely. "Don't try none of your tricks, Obadiah, 'cos I'm wise to you! You'll be caught if you do and you'll go straight to the firing squad without getting married first."**

**Corporal Turner raised his eyebrow again at Sharpe, but did not comment, other than to pointedly clear his throat.**

**Obadiah glared briefly at Sharpe as he stepped from the cell, but otherwise ignored him. He turned his attention to Abigail, taking her in his arms as he'd been wanting to do since being put in that cell. He knew he didn't have much time left, so he wasn't going to waste it arguing with Richard Sharpe.**

**After a long moment, Abigail reluctantly stepped back, then picked up Obadiah's uniform jacket from the chair to give him to wear during the ceremony.**

**Sharpe reached out and snatched it out of her hands before Obadiah could take it. After efficiently searching through the pockets for hidden weapons and not finding any, he threw it at Hakeswill, with more force than was necessary.**

"**Disappointed, Sharpie?" Hakeswill asked, cackling softly as he donned the jacket and buttoned it.**

**Before Sharpe could reply, Corporal Turner stepped forward to speak to Abigail and Obadiah, hoping it would be enough to deflect an argument between the two men.**

**When Sergeant Harper had first found him and asked him to perform the ceremony, he'd given him some background information about the couple he was to marry and the circumstances in which they found themselves. **

**Before leaving the church and joining the army, he would have likely refused to marry them: an unchaste woman wishing to be married to such an unrepentant sinner. But after a few years in the army, he'd seen everything and knew that things weren't always as simple as they seemed and that one could not always judge people according to the letter of the law, be it God's or man's law. He'd learned that the spirit of the law was a much kinder and effective way to respond to the vagaries of human nature.**

**Still, he wondered how this gently raised daughter of a vicar had ended up with this guttersnipe, whom Sergeant Harper had told him was a serial rapist, as well as being a murderer and a thief. Yet, it was obvious to him that she'd found something in this man to love and was with him of her own free will. And it seemed to him that Hakeswill returned her affection, as much as he was capable of. Under the circumstances, he was glad to grant this man his last request and be of any assistance he could to the new widow after the execution.**

**Looking from Obadiah to Abigail, he asked softly, "Are you both ready to begin? I'm sorry this couldn't be under better circumstances."**

"'**Bout as ready as I'll ever be," Obadiah replied, twitching nervously.**

"**Yes, I'm ready," Abigail said with a trembling smile. She'd not taken the time to change her gown, but she was wearing the silk shawl Obadiah had given her.**

"**Do you have a ring?" Turner asked as he fished his prayer book out of his haversack.**

"**Yes, right here," Abigail affirmed, twisting it off then holding it up for him to see. "It was my Christmas present."**

"**If you'll join hands and face me," Turner said after taking the ring from her. He waited until Abigail handed him the ring, then took her place beside Obadiah.**

**Sharpe and Harper, moved back a few steps to give them a slight amount of privacy, but remained ever-watchful, alert for any attempts by Obadiah to escape.**

**The words of the ceremony were mostly a blur to Abigail, whose eyes never left Obadiah's. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, but she knew he was nervous, despite his determination to hide his feelings from Richard Sharpe. Though he might be able to appear unperturbed to the other men, she was not fooled. She'd been with him long enough to know. The sadness in his eyes spoke volumes to her, as did his more frequent twitching, which she'd learned he did more when under stress.**

**As the corporal's voice droned on, Obadiah felt a profound regret for not marrying Abigail as soon as he'd found out he'd given her a bellyful. He'd always figured there was plenty of time for that once they left the deserter army. **

**But he was mostly resigned to his fate and had always known in the back of his mind that it was bound to happen one day. What bothered him most was not losing his own life, it was leaving Abigail alone to raise their child by herself. But it consoled him some to know that he could at least leave her with his name and his worldly goods, in addition to the living memory of their child, who would be her companion. His blood would go on, which gave him no small satisfaction.**

"**...for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"**

"**I do," Obadiah said thickly, a lump having formed in his throat, his eyes turning to Abigail at the words "until death do you part". It was all he could do to place the ring on her finger without betraying his emotions to Richard Sharpe.**

**Once the corporal had pronounced them man and wife, Obadiah and Abigail clung to one another for dear life, not wanting to face what would soon come next.**

**After a long moment, Sharpe silently signaled to the waiting men to come take charge of Obadiah. It was time to get this business done with.**

**Abigail clung more desperately to Obadiah as the soldiers approached, unwilling to allow them to do their sorry duty.**

**There was a long awkward moment, after which Obadiah gave his wife one longing last kiss, then gently removed himself from her embrace, then took off his sergeant's jacket for her to have as a keepsake.**

"**Let them do what they has to do, Abby," he whispered sadly, twitching. "Dragging it out will only make it worse for you in the end, see?" Nodding at Harper, he said, "Go with Harper after I'm gone. He'll look after you and make sure you gets home."**

**She obeyed reluctantly, but stayed close as the soldiers bound Obadiah's hands behind his back**

**As the soldiers began to lead him to the stairs, Obadiah lifted his chin and looked Richard Sharpe in the eye, raising one scornful eyebrow, unrepentant to the end. He would not give Sharpie the satisfaction of seeing him beg for his life.**

**Moments later, the group arrived at a meadow behind the convent, where a group of soldiers chosen for the firing squad waited. At the far end of the field was a tall wooden post driven into the ground, to which Obadiah would be tied.**

**Tears began anew and Abigail began to tremble at this sight, seeing the reality of Obadiah's imminent death.**

**At Sharpe's nod, the soldiers paused to allow the newly married couple to say goodbye, loosening Obadiah's bonds so he could embrace Abigail for the last time.**

"**I guess this is it, missy, " Obadiah said sadly, twitching nervously. "You shouldn't see what's going to happen. You should let Harper take you back inside now after we says goodbye."**

"**I promised you I'd stay with you until the very end, and I intend to keep that promise," she vowed, her voice shaky. "For better and for worse, until death do us part, remember?"**

"**I remember," he said quietly, nearly overcome with emotion.**

"**Promise me you'll take care of yourself and our little 'un, after I'm gone, eh?" he continued, holding her close. drawing consolation from the warmth of her skin.**

**Unable to speak, she merely looked into his eyes and nodded.**

"**Tell 'im his father loves 'im," he urged. "Tell 'im all about me."**

"**I will," she managed,**

"**Don't ever forget me, Abby, 'cos I'll be waitin' for you on the other side," Obadiah told her. "I loves you, you know."**

"**I know," she murmured, with a sad smile. "I love you, too, Obadiah, and I'll always treasure and be grateful for the time we had together. I couldn't possibly forget you, even if I wanted to."**

"'**Til we meet again, missy," Obadiah said gruffly, leaning in for one last kiss.**

"**Yes, until then," she whispered, tears in her eyes. **

**She remained rooted to the spot, unable to take her eyes off him as the soldiers led him to the tall post and bound him to it, hands behind his back around the post. So intent was she on the proceedings that she did not notice Patrick Harper when he came to stand close beside her to offer support.**

"**Are you sure you don't want to go inside?" Harper asked softly. "It's not something a lady should see."**

"**I promised to be with him until the end," she answered, not taking her eyes from Obadiah for a moment. "I want my face to be the last thing he sees."**

"**I understand," Harper said, wondering yet again how such a miserable sod as Obadiah Hakeswill had been able to inspire such loyalty in this woman. "I'll be stayin' right here beside you if you need me, so I will."**

**Obadiah had his eyes on Abigail, too, as the soldiers secured him to the post. His eyes left hers only for a moment as he spat in the face of the corporal who had come to blindfold him. He'd told her that he wanted her face to be the last thing he saw, so there was no way he'd allow them to blindfold him.**

**As the corporal moved off with the blindfold still in his hands, Obadiah stood tall with shoulders straight, his head held high, having eyes only for his wife. For her sake and for his own, he would die with dignity.**

"**Fire!" Several loud shots in unison pierced the late afternoon silence.**

**Abigail gasped, with her hands flying up to her mouth when Obadiah's body jerked as two bullets tore into him. She felt Harper's hand on her shoulder as she continued to look, unable to tear her eyes away.**

"**You can't kill me." Obadiah's guttural voice ground out into the silence following the shots.**

"**Oh, dear God!" Abigail inhaled sharply, when she realized Obadiah was still alive, his eyes still upon her.**

**Patrick Harper's eyes turned briefly to Richard Sharpe, whose consternation was evident after hearing Hakeswill's defiant voice.**

**A moment later, the corporal approached Obadiah again, with his pistol drawn, to finish him off. As he raised the weapon to shoot, Obadiah, though in great pain, kept his eyes on Abigail. "Abigail..."**

**The crack of a single shot reverberated through the air. Obadiah Hakeswill was dead.**


End file.
